, 


* 


i. 


THE  HOLLOW  LAND  A  ROMANCE  BY 
WILLIAM  MORRIS  •  REPRINTED  FROM 
THE  OXFORD  &  CAMBRIDGE  MAGAZINE 


BY  WILLIAM 
"MORRIS 


'•'tec- 


NOTE 

LIKE  Lamb,  "William  Morris  loved  a  former  time 
more  than  his  own,  &  indulged  himself  in  dreams 
of  a  day  five  centuries  dead.  To  read c  'The  Hollow  Land" 
is  to  wander  in  a  country  of  pale  visions,  where  all  the 
colors  seem  faded  with  age ;  a  country  of  noiseless  strife, 
where  even  the  sound  of  swords  and  battle-axes  upon 
helm  and  buckler,  seem  dulled  with  time  and  distance : 
even  when  "Mary  rings"  and  "the  earth  shakes,"  one 
feels  that  all  the  tumult  and  the  shouting  has  died  long 
ago,  and  that  the  armed  figures  gathering  at  the  sound 
are  but  ghosts  hurrying  to  and  fro  in  aland  of  no  reality 
other  than  that  of  a  poet's  fancy.  ^Morris  has  no  kinship 
with  the  modern  breed  of  writers  who  profess  to  restore 
to  us  those  former  days  as  they  once  were — days  whose 
true  character  could  have  been  drawn  only  by  men  long 
dead;  no  historic  motive  animates  him,  no  spirit  of  the 
antiquary :  he  professes  himself  a fc  fc  dreamer  of  dreams; " 
and  there  is  no  way  of  knowing— nor  is  it  important  to 
know— how  much  he  projected  into  those  distant  times 


8  his  own  feeling  of  what  romance  might  have  been.  The 
feuds  fought,  the  revenges  accomplished,  the  loves  won, 
all  in  the  picturesque  setting  of  a  time  gay  in  the  color 
of  chivalry,— these  were  the  things  he  saw-  in  the  light 
seen  only  by  a  poet.  ©  * fc  The  Hollow  Land  "  was  written 
when  Morris  was  but  22  years  of  age,  and  was  the  be* 
ginning  of  his  effort  to  work  out  a  literary  ^tyle  with 
what  power  lay  within  him;  a  iftyle  he  made  what  he 
did  others  in  other  arts,  a  thing  of  fullest  beauty.  The 
title,  it  has  been  suggested,  was  inspired  by  the  passage 
in  Rossettf  s  "Hand  and  Soul"  where  Chiaro  is  spoken 
of  as  "one  jui^l  out  of  a  dusk,  hollow  country,  bewilder" 
ed  with  echoes" — such  a  country  as  the  poet's  spirit 
delighted  to  wander  in;  a  country  whose  shadowy  hills 
he  opens  to  us  in  the  introduction  to  "The  Earthly  Para* 
lse. 

"Dreamer  of  dreams,  born  out  of  my  due  time, 

Why  should  I  strive  to  set  the  crooked  iftraight? 
Let  it  suffice  me  that  my  murmuring  rhyme 
Beats  with  light  wing  against  the  ivory  gate, 
Telling  a  tale  not  too  importunate 
To  those  who  in  the  sleepy  region  &ay, 
c     Lulled  by  the  singer  of  an  empty  day."  ^ 

C.  L.  H. 


(5tic  Mollovo  %axi6 

We  find  in  ancient  iftory  wonders  many  told, 
Of  heroes  in  great  glory,  with  spirit  free  and  bold; 
Of  joyances  and  high'tides,  of  weeping  and  of  woe, 
Of  noble  recken  striving,  mote  ye  now  wonders  know. 
Niebelungen  Lied  (See  Carlyles  Miscellanies). 


CHAPTER  I-STRUGGLING  IN  THE  WORLD 

O  you  know  where  it  is— 
the  Hollow  Land?  01  have 
been  looking  for  it  now  so 
long,  trying  to  find  it  again 
—  the  Hollow  Land  —  for 
there  I  saw  my  love  fir^t. 
®I  wish  to  tell  you  how  I 
found  it  firift  of  all;  but  I  am 
old,  my  memory  fails  me: 
you  mu^t  wait  and  let  me 
think  if  I  perchance  can  tell  you  how  it  happened.  &  Yea, 
in  my  ears  is  a  confused  noise  of  trumpet'bla^ts  singing 
over  desolate  moors,  in  my  ears  and  eyes  a  clashing  and 
clanging  of  horse*hoofs,  a  ringing  and  glittering  of  £teel; 

b 


io  drawn*back  lips,  set  teeth,  shouts,  shrieks,  and  curses. 
^Howwas  it  that  no  one  of  us  ever  found  it  till  that  day? 
for  it  is  near  our  country:  but  what  time  have  we  to 
look  for  it,  or  any  other  good  thing;  with  such  biting 
carking  cares  hemming  us  in  on  every  side — cares  about 
great  things — mighty  things:  mighty  things,  O  my  broth* 
ers !  or  rather  little  things  enough,  if  we  only  knew  it. 
^Lives  pa^t  in  turmoil,  in  making  one  another  unhappy; 
in  bitterest  misunderstanding  of  our  brothers'  hearts, 
making  those  sad  whom  God  has  not  made  sad, — alas! 
alas !  what  chance  for  any  of  us  to  find  the  Hollow  Land? 
what  time  even  to  look  for  it ?  0Yet  who  has  not  dreamed 
of  it?  Who,  half  miserable  yet  the  while,  for  that  he 
knows  it  is  but  a  dream,  has  not  felt  the  cool  waves 
round  his  feet,  the  roses  crowning  him,  and  through  the 
leaves  of  beech  and  lime  the  many  whispering  winds 
of  the  Hollow  Land  ?  ©  Now,  my  name  was  Florian,  and 
my  house  was  the  house  of  the  Lilies;  &  of  that  house 
was  my  father  Lord,  and  after  him  my  eldest  brother 
Arnald:  and  me  they  called  Florian  de  Liliis.  $?More* 
over,  when  my  father  was  dead,  there  arose  a  feud  be* 
tween  the  Lilies'  house  and  Red  Harald;  and  this  that 
follows  is  the  history  of  it.  $?Lady  Swanhilda,  Red  Har* 
aid's  mother,  was  a  widow,  with  one  son,  Red  Harald; 
and  when  she  had  been  in  widowhood  two  years,  being 


of  princely  blood,  and  besides  comely  and  fierce,  King  n 
Urraynes  sent  to  demand  her  in  marriage.  And  I  re* 
member  seeing  the  procession  leaving  the  town,  when 
I  was  quite  a  child;  and  many  young  knights  &  squires 
attended  the  Lady  Swanhilda  as  pages,  &  amongst  them 
Arnald,  my  eldest  brother.  §?  And  as  I  gazed  out  of  the 
window,  I  saw  him  walking  by  the  side  of  her  horse, 
dressed  in  white  &  gold  very  delicately;  but  as  he  went 
it  chanced  that  he  stumbled.  Now  he  was  one  of  those 
that  held  a  golden  canopy  over  the  lady's  head,  so  that 
it  now-  sunk  into  wrinkles,  and  the  lady  had  to  bow-  her 
head  full  low,  and  even  then  the  gold  brocade  caught  in 
one  o£  the  long,  slim  gold  flowers  that  were  wrought 
round  about  the  crown  she  wore.  She  flushed  up  in  her 
rage,  &  her  smooth  face  went  suddenly  into  the  carven 
wrinkles  of  a  wooden  waterspout,  and  she  caught  at 
the  brocade  with  her  left  hand,  &  pulled  it  away  furious* 
ly,  so  that  the  warp  and  woof  were  twisted  out  of  their 
places,  and  many  gold  threads  were  left  dangling  about 
the  crown;  but  Swanhilda  stared  about  when  she  rose, 
then  smote  my  brother  across  the  mouth  with  her  gilded 
sceptre,  and  the  red  blood  flowed  all  about  his  garments ; 
yet  he  only  turned  exceedingly  pale,  and  dared  say  no 
word,  though  he  was  heir  to  the  house  of  the  Lilies:  but 
my  small  heart  swelled  with  rage,  &  I  vowed  revenge, 


12  and,  as  it  seems,  he  did  too.  $?So  when  Swanhilda  had 
been  queen  three  years,  she  suborned  many  of  King 
Urrayne's  knights  and  lords,  and  slew  her  husband  as 
he  slept,  and  reigned  in  his  gtead.  And  her  son,  Harald, 
grew  up  to  manhood,  and  was  counted  a  strong  knight, 
and  well  spoken  of,  by  then  I  fir^l  put  on  my  armour. 
$?Then,  one  night,  as  I  lay  dreaming,  I  felt  a  hand  laid 
on  my  face,  and  starting  up  saw  Arnald  before  me  fully 
armed.  He  said,  "Florian,  rise  and  arm."  I  did  so,  all  but 
my  helm,  as  he  was.  $?He  kissed  me  on  the  forehead; 
his  lips  felt  hot  and  dry;  and  when  they  brought  torches, 
and  I  could  see  his  face  plainly,  I  saw  he  -was  very  pale. 
He  said :  0  • fc  Do  you  remember,  Florian,  this  day  sixteen 
years  ago  ?  It  is  a  long  time,  but  I  shall  never  forget  it  un* 
less  this  night  blots  out  its  memory."  ©I  knew  what  he 
meant,  and  because  my  heart  was  wicked,  I  rejoiced  ex*8 
ceedingly  at  the  thought  of  vengeance,  so  that  I  could 
not  speak,  but  only  laid  my  palm  across  his  lips .  0 fc '  Good ; 
you  have  a  good  memory,  Florian.  See  now,  I  waited 
long  and  long :  I  said  at  fir^l,  I  forgive  her;  but  when  the 
news  came  concerning  the  death  of  the  king,  and  how 
that  she  was  shameless,  I  said  I  will  take  it  as  a  sign,  if 
God  does  not  punish  her  within  certain  years,  that  He 
means  me  to  do  so ;  and  I  have  been  watching  and  watch* 
ing  now  these  two  years  for  an  opportunity,  and  behold 


it  has  come  at  la^t;  and  I  think  God  has  certainly  given  13 
her  into  our  hands,  for  she  reikis  this  night,  this  very 
Chriiftmas  Eve,  at  a  small  walled  town  on  the  frontier, 
not  two  hours'  gallop  from  this;  they  keep  little  ward 
there,  and  the  night  is  wild :  moreover,  the  prior  of  a  cer* 
tain  house  of  monks,  juift  without  the  walls,  is  my  fa^l 
friend  in  this  matter,  for  she  has  done  him  some  great 
injury.  In  the  courtyard  below,  a  hundred  &  fifty  knights 
and  squires,  all  faithful  and  true,  are  waiting  for  us:  one 
moment  and  we  shall  be  gone."  $?Then  we  both  knelt 
down,  and  prayed  God  to  give  her  into  our  hands :  we 
put  on  our  helms,  and  went  down  into  the  courtyard. 
®It  was  the  fir^l  time  I  expedted  to  use  a  sharp  sword 
in  anger,  and  I  was  full  of  joy  as  the  muffled  thunder  of 
our  horse*hoofs  rolled  through  the  bitter  winter  night. 

0  In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  we  had  crossed  the  frontier, 
and  in  half  an  hour  more  the  greater  part  had  halted  in 
a  wood  near  the  Abbey,  while  I  and  a  few-  others  went 
up  to  the  Abbey'gates,  and  knocked  loudly  four  times 
with  my  sword-hilt,  stamping  on  the  ground  meantime. 
A  long,  low  whittle  answered  me  from  within,  which 

1  in  my  turn  answered:  then  the  wicket  opened,  and  a 
monk  came  out,  holding  a  lantern.  He  seemed  yet  in  the 
prime  of  life,  and  was  a  tall,  powerful  man.  He  held  the 
lantern  to  my  face,  then  smiled  and  said,  "The  banners 


14  hang  low."  I  gave  the  countersign,  "The  creSt  is  lopped 
off."  "Good  my  son,"  said  he;  "the  ladders  are  within 
here,  I  dare  not  truSt  any  of  the  brethren  to  carry  them 
for  you,  though  they  love  not  the  witch  either,  but  are 
timor some."  W" No  matter,"  I  said,  "I  have  men  here." 
So  they  entered  and  began  to  shoulder  the  tall  ladders : 
the  prior  was  very  busy.  "You  will  find  them  juSt  the 
right  length,  my  son,  truSt  me  for  that."  He  seemed  quite 
a  jolly  pleasant  man,  I  could  not  understand  him  nurs* 
ing  furious  revenge;  but  his  face  darkened  Strangely 
whenever  he  happened  to  mention  her  name.  ®  As  we 
were  Starting  he  came  and  Stood  outside  the  gate,  and 
putting  his  lantern  down  that  the  light  of  it  might  not 
confuse  his  sight,  looked  earnestly  into  the  night,  then 
said:  "The  wind  has  fallen,  the  snow  flakes  get  thinner 
and  smaller  every  moment,  in  an  hour  it  will  be  freeze 
ing  hard,  and  will  be  quite  clear;  everything  depends 
upon  the  surprise  being  complete;  Stop  a  few  minutes 
yet,  my  son."  He  went  away  chuckling,  and  returned 
presently  with  two  more  Sturdy  monks  carrying  some* 
thing :  they  threw  their  burdens  down  before  my  feet, 
they  consisted  of  all  the  white  albs  in  the  abbey:  — 
"There,  truSt  an  old  man,  who  has  seen  more  than  one 
Stricken  fight  in  his  earned  days;  let  the  men  who  scale 
the  walls  put  these  over  their  arms,  and  they  will  not 


be  seen  in  the  lea^t.  God  make  your  sword  sharp,  my  15 
son."  @ So  we  departed,  and  when  I  met  Arnald  again, 
he  said,  that  what  the  prior  had  done  was  well  thought 
of;  so  we  agreed  that  I  should  take  thirty  men,  an  old 
squire  of  our  house,  well  skilled  in  war,  along  with  them, 
scale  the  walls  as  quietly  as  possible,  and  open  the  gates 
to  the  re^t.  €?I  set  off  accordingly,  after  that  with  low 
laughing  we  had  put  the  albs  all  over  us,  wrapping  the 
ladders  also  in  white.  Then  we  crept  very  warily  and 
slowly  up  to  the  wall ;  the  moat  was  frozen  over,  and  on 
the  ice  the  snow  lay  quite  thick;  we  all  thought  that  the 
guards  muA  be  careless  enough,  when  they  did  not  even 
take  the  trouble  to  break  the  ice  in  the  moat.  So  we  listen* 
ed — there  was  no  sound  at  all,  the  Christmas  midnight 
mass  had  long  ago  been  over,  it  was  nearly  three  o'clock, 
and  the  moon  began  to  clear,  there  was  scarce  any  snow 
falling  now,  only  a  flake  or  two  from  some  low  hurrying 
cloud  or  other:  the  wind  sighed  gently  about  the  round 
towers  there,  but  it  was  bitter  cold,  for  it  had  begun 
to  freeze  again :  we  listened  for  some  minutes,  about  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  I  think,  then  at  a  sign  from  me,  they 
raised  the  ladders  carefully,  muffled  as  they  were  at  the 
top  with  swathings  of  wool.  I  mounted  fir^t,  old  Squire 
Hugh  followed  la^t;  noiselessly  we  ascended,  and  soon 
£tood  all  together  on  the  walls;  then  we  carefully  low* 


1 6  ered  the  ladders  again  with  long  ropes;  we  got  our 
swords  and  axes  from  out  of  the  folds  of  our  priests'  rai-8 
ments,  and  set  forward,  till  we  reached  the  fir^t  tower 
along  the  wall;  the  door  was  open,  in  the  chamber  at  the 
top  there  -was  a  fire  slowly  smouldering,  nothing  else; 
we  passed  through  it,  and  began  to  go  down  the  spiral 
staircase,  I  firift,  with  my  axe  shortened  in  my  hand. — 
"What  if  we  were  surprised  there,"  I  thought,  and  I 
longed  to  be  out  in  the  air  again; — "Wliat  if  the  door 
were  fa^t  at  the  bottom."  <? As  we  passed  the  second 
chamber,  we  heard  someone  -within  snoring  loudly:  I 
looked  in  quietly,  and  saw-  a  big  man  with  long  black 
hair,  that  fell  off  his  pillow  and  swept  the  ground,  lying 
snoring,  with  his  nose  turned  up  &  his  mouth  open,  but 
he  seemed  so  sound  asleep  that  we  did  not  iftop  to  slay 
him. — Praise  be! — the  door  was  open,  without  even  a 
whispered  word,  without  a  pause,  we  went  on  along  the 
streets,  on  the  side  that  the  drift  had  been  on,  because  our 
garments  were  white,  for  the  -wind  being  very  strong  all 
that  day,  the  houses  on  that  side  had  caught  in  their  cor** 
nices  and  carvings,  and  on  the  rough  iftone  and  wood  of 
them,  so  much  snow,  that  except  here  and  there  where 
the  black  walls  grinned  out,  they  were  quite  white;  no 
man  saw  us  as  we  ^lole  along,  noiselessly  because  of  the 
snow,  till  we  ^tood  within  ioo  yards  of  the  gates  &  their 


house  of  guard.  And  we  3tood  because  we  heard  the    17 
voice  of  someone  singing: 

"  Queen  Mary's  crown  -was  gold, 
King  Joseph's  crown  was  red, 
But  Jesus'  crown  was  diamond 
That  lit  up  all  the  bed 

Mariae  Virginis." 

®So  they  had  some  guards  after  all;  this -was  clearly  the 
sentinel  that  sung  to  keep  the  ghosts  off. — Now  for  a 
fight. — We  drew  nearer,  a  few  yards  nearer,  then 
stopped  to  free  ourselves  from  our  monk's  clothes. 

"Ships  sail  through  the  Heaven 
With  red  banners  dress'd, 
Carrying  the  planets  seven 
To  see  the  white  breast 

Mariae  Virginis." 

Thereat  he  mu^t  have  seen  the  waving  of  some  alb  or 
other  as  it  shivered  down  to  the  ground,  for  his  spear  fell 
with  a  thud,  and  he  seemed  to  be  standing  open*mouth* 
ed,  thinking  something  about  ghosts;  then,  plucking  up 
heart  of  grace,  he  roared  out  like  ten  bull-calves,  &  dash* 
ed  into  the  guard'house.  ®We  followed  smartly,  but 
without  hurry,  and  came  up  to  the  door  of  it  ju  A  as  some 

c 


8  dozen  half*armed  men  came  tumbling  out  under  our 
axes :  thereupon,  while  our  men  slew  them,  I  blew  a  great 
blaSt  upon  my  horn,  and  Hugh  with  some  others  drew 
bolt  and  bar  and  swung  the  gates  wide  open.  3§Then  the 
men  in  the  guardhouse  understood  they  were  taken  in 
a  trap,  and  began  to  Stir  with  great  confusion;  so  leSt  they 
should  get  quite  waked  &  armed,  I  left  Hugh  at  the  gates 
with  ten  men,  and  myself  led  the  reSt  into  that  house. 
There  while  we  slew  all  those  that  yielded  not,  came 
Arnald  with  the  others,  bringing  our  horses  with  them : 
then  all  the  enemy  threw  their  arms  down.  And  we 
counted  our  prisoners  and  found  them  over  fourscore; 
therefore,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with  them  (for  they 
were  too  many  to  guard,  and  it  seemed  unknightly  to 
slay  them  all),  we  sent  up  some  bowmen  to  the  walls,  and 
turning  our  prisoners  out  of  gates,  bid  them  run  for  their 
lives,  which  they  did  faSt  enough,  not  knowing  our  num* 
bers,  &  our  men  sent  a  few  flights  of  arrows  among  them 
that  they  might  not  be  undeceived.  $?Then  the  one  or 
two  prisoners  that  we  had  left,  told  us,  when  we  had 
crossed  our  axes  over  their  heads,  that  the  people  of  the 
good  town  would  not  willingly  fight  us,  in  that  they 
hated  the  Queen;  that  she  was  guarded  at  the  palace  by 
some  fifty  knights,  and  that  beside,  there  were  no  others 
to  oppose  us  in  the  town:  so  we  set  out  for  the  palace, 


spear  in  hand.  SWe  had  not  gone  far,  before  we  heard  19 
some  knights  coming,  &  soon,  in  a  turn  of  the  long  street, 
we  saw  them  riding  towards  us ;  when  they  caught  sight 
of  us  they  seemed  astonished,  drew  rein,  and  iftood  in 
some  confusion.  ©We  did  not  slacken  our  pace  for  an 
instant,  but  rode  right  at  them  with  a  yell,  to  which  I 
lent  myself  with  all  my  heart.  ©  After  all  they  did  not 
run  away,  but  waited  for  us  with  their  spears  held  out; 
I  missed  the  man  I  had  marked,  or  hit  him  rather  juift  on 
the  top  of  the  helm;  he  bent  back,  and  the  spear  slipped 
over  his  head,  but  my  horse  iftill  kept  on,  and  I  felt  pres* 
ently  such  a  crash  thatl  reeled  in  my  saddle,  and  felt  mad. 
He  had  lashed  out  at  me  with  his  sword  as  I  came  on,  hit* 
ting  me  in  the  ribs  (for  my  arm  was  raised),  but  only 
flatlings.  ©I  was  quite  wild  with  rage,  I  turned,  almost 
fell  upon  him,  caught  him  by  the  neck  with  both  hands, 
and  threwr  him  under  the  horschoofs,  sighing  with  fury : 
I  heard  Arnald's  voice  close  to  me,  "Well  fought,  Flo* 
rian :  7  &  I  saw  his  great  ^lern  face  bare  among  the  iron,  for 
he  had  made  a  vow  in  remembrance  of  that  blow  always 
to  fight  unhelmed;  I  saw-  his  great  sword  swinging,  in 
wide  gyves,  and  hissing  as  it  started  up,  ju^t  as  if  it  were 
alive  and  liked  it.  ©So  joy  filled  all  my  soul,  and  I  fought 
with  my  heart,  till  the  big  axe  I  swung  felt  like  nothing 
but  a  little  hammer  in  my  hand,  except  for  its  bitterness : 


20  and  as  for  the  enemy,  they  went  down  like  grass,  so  that 
we  destroyed  them  utterly,  for  those  knights  would 
neither  yield  nor  fly,  but  died  as  they  Stood,  so  that  some 
fifteen  of  our  men  also  died  there .  ^Then  at  laSt  we  came 
to  the  palace,  where  some  grooms  and  such  like  kept 
the  gates  armed,  but  some  ran,  &  some  we  took  prison* 
ers,  one  of  whom  died  for  sheer  terror  in  our  hands,  be* 
ing  Stricken  by  no  wound :  for  he  thought  we  would  eat 
him.  ®These  prisoners  we  questioned  concerning  the 
queen,  and  so  entered  the  great  hall.  ®  There  Arnald  sat 
down  in  the  throne  on  the  dais,  and  laid  his  naked  sword 
before  him  on  the  table :  and  on  each  side  of  him  sat  such 
knights  as  there  was  room  for,  &  the  others  Stood  round 
about,  while  I  took  ten  men,  and  went  to  look  for  Swan* 
hilda.^I  found  her  soon,  sitting  by  herself  in  a  gorgeous 
chamber.  I  almost  pitied  her  when  I  saw  her  looking  so 
utterly  desolate  &  despairing;  her  beauty  too  had  faded, 
deep  lines  cut  through  her  face.  But  when  I  entered  she 
knew  who  I  was,  and  her  look  of  intense  hatred  was 
so  fiend*like,  that  it  changed  my  pity  into  horror  of  her. 
3§" Knight,"  she  said,  "who  are  you,  and  what  do  you 
want,  thus  discourteously  entering  my  chamber ?"  ®"I 
am  Florian  de  Liliis,  &  I  am  to  condudt  you  to  judgment." 
@She  sprung  up,  "Curse  you  and  your  whole  house, 
—you  I  hate  worse  than  any,— girl's  face,— guards! 


guards !"  and  she  stamped  on  the  ground,  her  veins  on  21 
the  forehead  swelled,  her  eyes  grew  round  and  flamed 
out,  as  she  kept  crying  for  her  guards,  damping  the 
while,  for  she  seemed  quite  mad.  @Then  at  la^t  she  re* 
membered  that  she  was  in  the  power  of  her  enemies, 
she  sat  down,  and  lay  with  her  face  between  her  hands, 
and  wept  passionately.  ^"Witch," — I  said,  between 
my  closed  teeth,  "will  you  come,  or  mu^twe  carry  you 
down  to  the  great  hall?"  W Neither  would  she  come, 
but  sat  there,  clutching  at  her  dress  and  tearing  her  hair. 
^Then  I  said,  "Bind  her,  &  carry  her  down."  And  they 
did  so.  W I  watched  Arnald  as  we  came  in,  there  was  no 
triumph  in  his  intern  white  face,  but  resolution  enough, 
he  had  made  up  his  mind.  ^?They  placed  her  on  a  seat 
in  the  mid^t  o£  the  hall  over  against  the  dais.  He  said, 
"Unbind  her,  Florian."  They  did  so,  she  raised  her  face, 
and  glared  defiance  at  us  all,  as  though  she  would  die 
queenly  after  all.  $?Then  rose  up  Arnald  &  said,  "Queen 
Swanhilda,  we  judge  you  guilty  of  death,  and  because 
you  are  a  queen  and  of  a  noble  house,  you  shall  be  slain 
by  my  knightly  sword,  &  I  will  even  take  the  reproach 
o£  slaying  a  woman,  for  no  other  hand  than  mine  shall 
deal  the  blow."  $?Then  she  said,  "O  false  knight,  shew 
your  warrant  from  God,  man,  or  devil."  $?"This  war* 
rant  from  God,  Swanhilda,"  he  said,  holding  up  his 


22  sword, k  'listen !  —fifteen  years  ago,  when  I  was  ju^t  win* 
ning  my  spurs,  you  struck  me,  disgracing  me  before  all 
the  people;  you  cursed  me,  and  meant  that  curse  well 
enough.  Men  of  the  house  of  the  Lilies,  what  sentence 
for  that?"®  "Deathrtheysaid.©"Li&en!  —  afterwards 
you  slew  my  cousin,  your  husband,  treacherously,  in 
the  mo^t  cursed  way,  Slabbing  him  in  the  throat,  as  the 
gtars  in  the  canopy  above  him  looked  down  on  the  shut 
eyes  of  him.  Men  of  the  house  of  the  Lily,  what  sentence 
for  that  ?"  © c  fc  Death !  £  they  said.  ©  "  Do  you  hear  them, 
Queen?  there  is  warrant  from  man;  for  the  devil,  I  do 
not  reverence  him  enough  to  take  warrant  from  him, 
but,  as  I  look  at  that  face  of  yours,  I  think  that  even  he 
has  left  you."  ©And  indeed  ju^t  then  all  her  pride  seem* 
ed  to  leave  her,  she  fell  from  the  chair,  and  wallowed 
on  the  ground  moaning,  she  wept  like  a  child,  so  that 
the  tears  lay  on  the  oak  floor;  she  prayed  for  another 
month  of  life;  she  came  to  me  and  kneeled,  and  kissed 
my  feet,  and  prayed  piteously,  so  that  water  ran  out  of 
her  mouth.  ©But  I  shuddered,  and  drew  away;  it  was 
like  having  an  adder  about  one;  I  could  have  pitied  her 
had  she  died  bravely,  but  for  one  like  her  to  whine  and 
whine!— pah!—  ©Then  from  the  dais  rang  Arnald's 
voice  terrible,  much  changed.  "  Let  there  be  an  end  of 
all  this."  And  he  took  his  sword  and  strode  through  the 


hall  towards  her ;  she  rose  from  the  ground  and  ^lood  up,  23 
stooping  a  little,  her  head  sunk  between  her  shoulders, 
her  black  eyes  turned  up  &  gleaming,  like  a  tigress  about 
to  spring.  Wlien  he  came  within  some  six  paces  of  her 
something  in  his  eye  daunted  her,  or  perhaps  the  flash* 
ing  of  his  terrible  sword  in  the  torchlight;  she  threw 
her  arms  up  with  a  great  shriek,  and  dashed  screaming 
about  the  hall.  Arnold's  lip  never  once  curled  with  any 
scorn,  no  line  in  his  face  changed:  he  said,  "Bring  her 
here  and  bind  her."  €?But  when  one  came  up  to  her  to 
lay  hold  on  her  she  fir&  of  all  ran  at  him,  hitting  him 
with  her  head  in  the  belly.  Then  while  he  iftood  doubled 
up  for  want  of  breath,  and  staring  with  his  head  up,  she 
caught  his  sword  from  the  girdle,  and  cut  him  across 
the  shoulders,  and  many  others  she  wounded  sorely  be* 
fore  they  took  her.  £?Then  Arnald  ^tood  by  the  chair  to 
which  she  was  bound,  and  poised  his  sword,  and  there 
was  a  great  silence.  $?Then  he  said,  "Men  of  the  House 
of  the  Lilies,  do  you  justify  me  in  this,  shall  she  die?" 
Straightway  rang  a  great  shout  through  the  hall,  but  be* 
fore  it  died  away  the  sword  had  swept  round,  &  there* 
withal  was  there  no  such  thing  as  Swanhilda  left  upon 
the  earth,  for  in  no  battle*field  had  Arnald  struck  truer 
blow.  Then  he  turned  to  the  few  servants  of  the  palace 
and  said,  "Go  now,  bury  this  accursed  woman,  for  she 


24  is  a  king's  daughter."  Then  to  us  all,  "Now  knights,  to 
horse  and  away,  that  we  may  reach  the  good  town  by 
about  dawn."  So  we  mounted  and  rode  off.  3§V/hat 
a  strange  Chri&mas*day  that  was,  for  there,  about  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  rode  Red  Harald  into  the  good 
town  to  demand  vengeance ;  he  went  at  once  to  the  king, 
and  the  king  promised  that  before  nightfall  that  very 
day  the  matter  should  be  judged;  albeit  the  king  feared 
somewhat,  because  every  third  man  you  met  in  the 
streets  had  a  blue  cross  on  his  shoulder,  &  some  likeness 
of  a  lily,  cut  out  or  painted,  ^tuck  in  his  hat;  and  this  blue 
cross  and  lily  were  the  bearings  of  our  house,  called  "de 
Liliis."  Now  we  had  seen  Red  Harald  pass  through  the 
streets,  with  a  white  banner  borne  before  him,  to  show 
that  he  came  peaceably  as  for  this  time;  but  I  trow  he 
was  thinking  of  other  things  but  peace.  $?And  he  was 
called  Red  Harald  fir^t  at  this  time,  because  over  all  his 
arms  he  wore  a  great  scarlet  cloth,  that  fell  in  heavy  folds 
about  his  horse  and  all  about  him.  Then,  as  he  passed  our 
house,  someone  pointed  it  out  to  him,  rising  there  with 
its  carving  &  its  barred  marble,  but  stronger  than  many 
a  cattle  on  the  hilltops,  and  its  great  overhanging  battle* 
ment  ca^t  a  mighty  shadow  down  the  wall  &  across  the 
street;  and  above  all  rose  the  great  tower,  our  banner 
floating  proudly  from  the  top,  whereon  was  emblazoned 


on  a  white  ground  a  blue  cross,  and  on  a  blue  ground  four  25 
white  lilies.  And  now  faces  were  gazing  from  all  the 
windows,  and  all  the  battlements  were  thronged;  so 
Harald  turned,  &  rising  in  his  stirrups,  shook  his  clench- 
ed fi^t  at  our  house ;  natheless,  as  he  did  so,  the  east  wind, 
coming  down  the  iftreet,  caught  up  the  corner  of  that 
scarlet  cloth  and  drove  it  over  his  face,  and  therewithal 
disordering  his  long  black  hair,  well  nigh  choked  him, 
so  that  he  bit  both  his  hair  and  that  cloth.  W  So  from  base 
to  cope  rose  a  mighty  shout  of  triumph  and  defiance,  and 
he  passed  on.  $?Then  Arnald  caused  it  to  be  cried,  that 
all  those  who  loved  the  good  House  of  the  Lilies  should 
go  to  mass  that  morning  in  St.  Mary's  church,  hard  by 
our  house.  Now  this  church  belonged  to  us,  and  the  ab- 
bey that  served  it,  and  always  we  appointed  the  abbot 
of  it  on  condition  that  our  trumpets  should  sound  alto- 
gether when  on  high  masses  they  sing  the w  fc  Gloria  in  Ex- 
celsis."  It  was  the  largest  and  mo&  beautiful  of  all  the 
churches  in  the  town,  and  had  two  exceeding  high 
towers,  which  you  could  see  from  far  off,  even  when 
you  saw  not  the  town  or  any  of  its  other  towers:  and  in 
one  of  these  towers  were  twelve  great  bells,  named  after 
the  twelve  Apostles,  one  name  being  written  on  each 
one  of  them;  as  Peter,  Matthew,  and  so  on;  and  in  the 
other  tower  was  one  great  bell  only,  much  larger  than 

d 


26  any  of  the  others,  and  which  was  called  Mary.  Now 
this  bell  was  never  rung  but  when  our  house  was  in 
great  danger,  and  it  had  this  legend  on  it, k  k  When  Mary 
rings  the  earth  shakes;"  and  indeed  from  this  we  took 
our  war  cry,  which  was  "Mary  rings;"  somewhat  jus* 
tifiably  indeed,  for  the  laift  time  that  Mary  rung,  on  that 
day  before  nightfall  there  were  four  thousand  bodies  to 
be  buried,  which  bodies  wore  neither  cross  nor  lily.  6 
So  Arnald  gave  me  in  charge  to  tell  the  abbot  to  cause 
Mary  to  be  tolled  for  an  hour  before  mass  that  day.  W 
The  abbot  leaned  on  my  shoulder  as  I  iftood  within  the 
tower  &  looked  at  the  twelve  monks  laying  their  hands 
to  the  ropes.  Far  up  in  the  dimness  I  saw-  the  wheel  be* 
fore  it  began  to  swing  round  about;  then  it  moved  a  little; 
the  twelve  men  bent  down  to  the  earth  and  a  roar  rose 
that  shook  the  tower  from  base  to  spire*vane:  back* 
wards  and  forwards  swept  the  wheel,  as  Mary  now 
looked  downwards  towards  earth,  now  looked  up  at 
the  shadowy  cone  of  the  spire,  shot  across  by  bars  of 
light  from  the  dormers.  W> And  the  thunder  of  Mary 
was  caught  up  by  the  wind  and  carried  through  all  the 
country;  and  when  the  good  man  heard  it,  he  said  good* 
bye  to  wife  and  child,  slung  his  shield  behind  his  back, 
and  set  forward  with  his  spear  sloped  over  his  shoulder, 
and  many  a  time,  as  he  walked  toward  the  good  town, 


he  tightened  the  belt  that  went  about  his  wai&,  that  he  27 
might  stride  the  faster,  so  long  and  furiously  did  Mary 
toll.  0  And  before  the  great  bell,  Mary,  had  ceased  ring* 
ing,  all  the  ways  were  full  of  armed  men.  ®  But  at  each 
door  of  the  church  of  St.  Mary  iftood  a  row  of  men  armed 
with  axes,  and  when  any  came,  meaning  to  go  into  the 
church,  the  two  fir^t  of  these  would  hold  their  axes 
(whose  helves  were  about  four  feet  long)  over  his  head, 
and  would  ask  him,  "  Who  went  over  the  moon  la^l 
night?"  then  if  he  answered  nothing  or  at  random  they 
would  bid  him  turn  back,  which  he  for  the  more  part 
would  be  ready  enough  to  do;  but  some,  striving  to  get 
through  that  row  of  men,  were  slain  outright;  but  if  he 
were  one  of  those  that  were  friends  to  the  House  of  the 
Lilies  he  would  answer  to  that  question,  "Mary  and 
John."  $?By  the  time  the  mass  began  the  whole  church 
was  full,  and  in  the  nave  &  transept  thereof  were  three 
thousand  men,  all  of  our  house  &  all  armed.  But  Arnald 
and  myself,  and  Squire  Hugh,  and  some  others  sat  un* 
der  a  gold'fringed  canopy  near  the  choir;  and  the  abbot 
said  mass,  having  his  mitre  on  his  head.  Yet,  as  I  watch* 
ed  him,  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  mu^t  have  something  on 
beneath  his  priest's  vestments,  for  he  looked  much  fatter 
than  usual,  being  really  a  tall  lithe  man.  $?Now,  as  they 
sung  the  "Eyrie,"  some  one  shouted  from  the  other  end 


28  of  the  church,  "My  lord  Arnald,  they  are  slaying  our 
people  without;"  for,  indeed,  all  the  square  about  the 
church  was  full  of  our  people,  "who  for  the  press  had  not 
been  able  to  enter,  and  were  standing  there  in  no  small 
dread  of  what  might  come  to  pass.  ®Then  the  abbot 
turned  round  from  the  altar,  and  began  to  fidget  with 
the  fastenings  of  his  rich  robes.  <S  And  they  made  a  lane 
for  us  up  to  the  weSt  door ;  then  I  put  on  my  helm  and  we 
began  to  go  up  the  nave,  then  suddenly  the  singing  of  the 
monks  and  all  Slopped.  I  heard  a  clinking  and  a  buzz  of 
voices  in  the  choir;  I  turned,  and  saw  that  the  bright 
noon  sun  was  shining  on  the  gold  of  the  priest's  veSt* 
ments,  as  they  lay  on  the  floor,  and  on  the  mail  that  the 
prieSts  carried.  $?So  we  Stopped,  the  choir  gates  swung 
open,  &  the  abbot  marched  out  at  the  head  of  HIS  men, 
all  fully  armed,  and  began  to  Strike  up  the  Psalm  "Ex* 
surgat  Deus."  0  WTien  we  got  to  the  weSt  door,  there 
was  indeed  a  tumult,  but  as  yet  no  slaying;  the  square 
was  all  a*flicker  with  Steel,  and  we  beheld  a  great  body 
of  knights,  at  the  head  of  them  Red  Harald  and  the  king, 
Standing  over  againSt  us ;  but  our  people,  pressed  againSt 
the  houses,  &  into  the  corners  of  the  square,  were,  some 
Striving  to  enter  the  doors,  some  beside  themselves  with 
rage,  shouting  out  to  the  others  to  charge;  withal,  some 
were  pale  and  some  were  red  with  the  blood  that  had 


gathered  to  the  wrathful  faces  of  them.  ^Then  said  29 
Arnald  to  those  about  him,  "Lift  me  up."  So  they  laid 
a  great  shield  on  two  lances,  and  these  four  men  carried, 
and  thereon  iftood  Arnald,  &  gazed  about  him.  ^Now 
the  king  was  unhelmed,  and  his  white  hair  (for  he  was 
an  old  man)  flowed  down  behind  him  on  to  his  saddle; 
but  Arnald's  hair  was  cut  short,  and  was  red.  0  And 
all  the  bells  rang.  ^Then  the  king  said,  "O  Arnald  of 
the  Lilies,  will  you  settle  this  quarrel  by  the  judgment 
of  God?"  And  Arnald  thrust  up  his  chin,  &  said  "Yea." 
"How  then,"  said  the  king,  "and  where?"  "Will  it 
please  you  try  now?"  said  Arnald.  $?Then  the  king  un* 
der&ood  what  he  meant,  and  took  in  his  hand  from  be* 
hind  tresses  of  his  long  white  hair,  twiifting  them  round 
his  hand  in  his  wrath,  but  yet  said  no  word,  till  I  suppose 
his  hair  put  him  in  mind  of  something,  and  he  raised  it 
in  both  his  hands  above  his  head,  and  shouted  out  aloud, 
"O  knights,  hearken  to  this  traitor."  WTiereat,  indeed, 
the  lances  began  to  move  ominously.  But  Arnald  spoke . 
IP  "  O  you  king  and  lords,  what  have  we  to  do  with  you? 
were  we  not  free  in  the  old  time,  up  among  the  hills 
there?  Wlierefore  give  way,  and  we  will  go  to  the  hills 
again;  and  if  any  man  try  to  £top  us,  his  blood  be  on  his 
own  head;  wherefore  now,"  (and  he  turned)  "all  you 
House  of  the  Lily,  both  soldiers  and  monks,  let  us  go 


30  forth  together  fearing  nothing,  for  I  think  there  is  not 
bone  enough  or  muscle  enough  in  these  fellows  here  that 
have  a  king  that  they  should  £top  us  withal,  but  only- 
skin  and  fat."  0  And  truly,  no  man  dared  to  &op  us,  and 
we  went. 


CHAPTER  II- FAILING  IN  THE  WORLD 

NOW  at  that  time  we  drove  cattle  in  Red 
Har aid's  land.  $?And  we  took  no  hoof  but 
from  the  Lords  and  rich  men,  but  of  these 
we  had  amighty  drove,  both  oxen  and  sheep, 
and  horses,  and  besides,  even  hawks  and  hounds,  and  a 
huntsman  or  two  to  take  care  of  them.  ©  And,  about 
noon,  we  drew  away  from  the  commands  that  lay  be* 
yond  the  pastures,  and  mingled  with  them,  and  reached 
a  wide  moor,  which  was  called  'Goliah's  Land/  I  scarce 
know  why,  except  that  it  belonged  neither  to  Red  Har* 
aid  or  us,  but  was  debateable.  0  And  the  cattle  began  to 
go  slowly,  and  our  horses  were  tired,  and  the  sun  struck 
down  very  hot  upon  us,  for  there  was  no  shadow,  and 
the  day  was  cloudless.  $?A11  about  the  edge  of  the 
moor,  except  on  the  side  from  which  we  had  come  was 
a  rim  of  hills,  not  very  high,  but  very  rocky  and  ifteep, 
otherwise  the  moor  itself  was  flat;  and  through  these 


hills  was  one  pass,  guarded  by  our  men,  which  pass  31 
led  to  the  Hill  caiftle  of  the  Lilies.  ®It  was  not  won* 
derful,  that  of  this  moor  many  wild  Tories  were  told, 
being  such  a  Grange  lonely  place,  some  of  them  one 
knew,  alas!  to  be  over  true.  In  the  old  time,  before  we 
went  to  the  good  town,  this  moor  had  been  the  muster* 
ing  place  of  our  people,  and  our  house  had  done  deeds 
enough  of  blood  and  horror  to  turn  our  white  lilies  red, 
and  our  blue  cross  to  a  fiery  one.  But  some  of  those  wild 
tales  I  never  believed;  they  had  to  do  mostly  with  men 
losing  their  way  without  any  apparent  cause,  (for  there 
were  plenty  of  land*marks,)  finding  some  well-known 
spot,  and  then,  ju^l  beyond  it,  a  place  they  had  never 
even  dreamed  of.  ^"Florian!  Florian! "  said  Arnald, 
"For  God's  sake  iftop!  as  every  one  else  is  flopping  to 
look  at  the  hills  yonder;  I  always  thought  there  was  a 
curse  upon  us.  Wliat  does  God  mean  by  shutting  us  up 
here?  Look  at  the  cattle;  O  Christ,  they  have  found  it 
out  too !  See,  some  of  them  are  turning  to  run  back  again 
towards  Harald's  land.  Oh!  unhappy,  unhappy,  from 
that  day  forward! M  $?He  leaned  forward,  reeled  his 
head  on  his  horse's  neck,  and  wept  like  a  child.  @I  felt  so 
irritated  with  him,  that  I  could  almost  have  slain  him 
then  and  there.  Was  he  mad?  had  these  wild  doings  of 
ours  turned  his  strong  wise  head?     $?"Are  you  my 


32  brother  Arnald,  that  I  used  to  think  such  a  grand  man 
when  I  was  a  boy?"  I  said,  "or  are  you  changed  too,  like 
everybody,  &  everything  else?  WTiat  do  YOU  mean?" 
3§"Look!  look!"  he  said,  grinding  his  teeth  in  agony. 
Mi  raised  my  eyes:  where  was  the  one  pass  between 
the  rim  of  iftern  rocks  ?  Nothing :  the  enemy  behind  us— 
that  grim  wall  in  front:  what  wonder  that  each  man 
looked  in  his  fellow's  face  for  help,  &  found  it  not.  Yet 
I  refused  to  believe  that  there  was  any  truth  either  in  the 
wild  Tories  that  I  had  heard  when  I  was  a  boy,  or  in 
this  &ory  told  me  so  clearly  by  my  eyes  now.  $PI  called 
out  cheerily, fc  fc  Hugh,  come  here ! "  He  came . fc  fc  Wliat  do 
you  think  of  this?  Some  mere  dodge  on  Har  aid's  part? 
Are  we  cut  off?"  $?"Think!  SirFlorian?  God  forgive 
me  for  ever  thinking  at  all;  I  have  given  up  that  long  and 
long  ago,  because  thirty  years  ago  I  thought  this,  that 
the  House  of  Lilies  would  deserve  anything  in  the  way 
of  bad  fortune  that  God  would  send  them:  so  I  gave  up 
thinking,  and  took  to  fighting.  But  if  you  think  that  Har*8 
aid  had  anything  to  do  with  this,  why— why— in  God's 
name,  I  wish  I  could  think  so ! "  WI  felt  a  dull  weight  on 
my  heart.  Had  our  house  been  the  devil's  servants  all 
along?  I  thought  we  were  God's  servants.  $?The  day 
was  very  iftill,  but  what  little  wind  there  was,  was  at  our 
backs.  I  watched  Hugh's  face,  not  being  able  to  answer 


him.  He  was  the  cleverest  man  at  war  that  I  have  33 
known,  either  before  or  since  that  day:  sharper  than 
any  hound  in  ear  &  scent,  clearer  sighted  than  any  eagle ; 
he  was  listening  now  intently.  I  saw  a  slight  smile  cross 
his  face ;  heard  him  mutter,  "Yes !  I  think  so :  verily  that 
is  better,  a  great  deal  better."  Then  he  3tood  up  in  his 
stirrups,  and  shouted,  "Hurrah  for  the  Lilies!  Mary 
rings ! M  "Mary  rings! "  I  shouted,  though  I  did  not  know 
the  reason  for  his  exultation :  my  brother  lifted  his  head, 
and  smiled  too,  grimly  .Then  as  I  listened  I  heard  clearly 
the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  &  enemy's  trumpet  too.  $?"  After 
all,  it  was  only  mi^t,  or  some  such  thing,"  I  said,  for  the 
pass  between  the  hills  was  clear  enough  now.  $?"Hur* 
rah!  only  mi^t," said  Arnald,  quite  elated;  "Mary  rings! " 
and  we  all  began  to  think  of  fighting :  for  after  all,  what 
joy  is  equal  to  that?  ©There  were  five  hundred  of  us; 
two  hundred  spears,  the  re^t  archers;  &  both  archers  and 
men  at  arms  were  picked  men.  ©  "How  many  of  them 
are  we  to  expedt?"  said  I.  0  "Not  under  a  thousand,  cer* 
tainly,  probably  more,  Sir  Florian."  (My  brother  Ar* 
nald,  by  the  way,  had  knighted  me  before  we  left  the 
good  town,  and  Hugh  liked  to  give  me  the  handle  to  my 
name.  How  was  it,  by  the  way,  that  no  one  had  ever 
made  HIM  a  knight?)  © ' 'Let  every  one  look  to  his  arms 
and  horse,  and  come  away  from  these  silly  cows'  sons ! r 

e 


34  shouted  Arnald.  ^Hugh  said,  "They  will  be  here  in  an 
hour,  fair  Sir."  $?So  we  got  clear  of  the  cattle,  and  dis* 
mounted,  and  both  ourselves  took  food  and  drink,  and 
our  horses;  afterwards  we  tightened  our  saddle-girths, 
shook  our  great  pots  of  helmets  on,  except  Arnald, 
whose  ru^tyred  hair  had  been  his  only  head*piece  in 
battle  for  years  &  years,  and  £tood  with  our  spears  close 
by  our  horses,  leaving  room  for  the  archers  to  retreat  be" 
tween  our  ranks;  and  they  got  their  arrow's  ready,  and 
planted  their  stakes  before  a  little  peat  moss:  and  there 
we  waited,  and  saw  their  pennons  at  la^t  floating  high 
above  the  corn  of  the  fertile  land,  then  heard  their  many 
horsehoofs  ring  upon  the  hard*parched  moor,  and  the 
archers  began  to  shoot. 

.  •  .  .  .  .  *  .  .  •  ..  .  . ,  •  .  .. 
$?It  had  been  a  strange  battle;  we  had  never  fought  bet" 
ter,  and  yet  withal  it  had  ended  in  a  retreat;  indeed  all 
along  every  man  but  Arnald  and  myself,  even  Hugh, 
had  been  trying  at  lea&  to  get  the  enemy  between  him 
and  the  way  toward  the  pass ;  &  now  we  were  all  drift- 
ing that  way,  the  enemy  trying  to  cut  us  off,  but  never 
able  to  £top  us,  because  he  could  only  throw  small  bodies 
of  men  in  our  way ,  whom  we  scattered  and  put  to  flight 
in  their  turn.  ®I  never  cared  less  for  my  life  than  then; 
indeed,  in  spite  of  all  my  boasting  and  hardness  of  belief, 


I  should  have  been  happy  to  have  died,  such  a  Grange  35 
weight  of  apprehension  was  on  me;  and  yet  I  got  no 
scratch  even.  I  had  soon  put  off  my  great  helm,  and  was 
fighting  in  my  mail'coif  only;  &  here  I  swear  that  three 
knights  together  charged  me,  aiming  at  my  bare  face, 
yet  never  touched  me;  for,  as  for  one,  I  put  his  lance 
aside  with  my  sword,  and  the  other  two  in  some  mo^t 
wonderful  manner  got  their  spears  locked  in  each  oth* 
er's  armour,  and  so  had  to  submit  to  be  knocked  off  their 
their  horses.  ©  And  we  ^till  neared  the  pass,  and  began 
to  see  di^lindlly  the  ferns  that  grew  on  the  rocks,  and  the 
fair  country  between  the  rift  in  them,  spreading  out 
there,  blue*shadowed.  $?  Whereupon  came  a  great  rush 
of  men  of  both  sides,  striking  side  blows  at  each  other, 
spitting,  cursing,  and  shrieking,  as  they  tore  away  like 
a  herd  of  wild  hogs.  So,  being  careless  of  life,  as  I  said, 
I  drew  rein,  and  turning  my  horse,  waited  quietly  for 
them;  and  I  knotted  the  reins,  &  lay  them  on  the  horse's 
neck,  and  stroked  him,  that  he  whinnied;  then  got  both 
my  hands  to  my  sword.  ^Then,  as  they  came  on,  I  noted 
hurriedly  that  the  firift  man  was  one  of  Arnald's  men, 
and  one  of  our  men  behind  him  leaned  forward  to  prod 
him  with  his  spear,  but  could  not  reach  so  far,  till  he  him* 
self  was  run  through  the  eye  with  a  spear,  and  throw* 
ing  his  arms  up  fell  dead  with  a  shriek.  Also  I  noted 


36  concerning  this  fir&  man  that  the  laces  of  his  helmet 
were  loose,  &  when  he  saw  me  he  lifted  his  LEFT  hand 
to  his  head,  took  off  his  helm  and  ca^t  it  at  me,  and  £till 
tore  on;  the  helmet  flew  over  my  head,  and  I  sitting  &ill 
there,  swung  out,  hitting  him  on  the  neck;  his  head  flew 
right  off,  for  the  mail  no  more  held  than  a  piece  of  silk. 
®  "  Mary  rings,"  and  my  horse  whinnied  again,  and  we 
both  of  us  went  at  it,  and  fairly  stopped  that  rout,  so 
that  there  was  a  knot  of  quite  close  and  desperate  fight** 
ing,  wherein  we  had  the  beift  of  that  fight  and  slew  moA 
of  them,  albeit  my  horse  was  slain  and  my  mail*coif  cut 
through.  Then  I  bade  a  squire  fetch  me  another  horse, 
and  began  meanwhile  to  upbraid  those  knights  for  run* 
ning  in  such  a  strange  disorderly  race,  instead  of  iftand* 
ing  and  fighting  cleverly.  $?  Moreover  we  had  drifted 
even  in  this  successful  fight  iftill  nearer  to  the  pass,  so 
that  the  conies  who  dwelt  there  were  beginning  to  con* 
sider  whether  they  should  not  run  into  their  holes.  0 
But  one  of  those  knights  said:  "Be  not  angry  with  me, 
Sir  Florian,  but  do  you  think  you  will  go  to  Heaven?" 
0 fc  'The  saints !  I  hope  so,"  I  said,  but  one  who  Aood  near 
him  whispered  to  him  to  hold  his  peace,  so  I  cried  out: 
S?"0  friend!  I  hold  this  world  and  all  therein  so  cheap 
now,  that  I  see  not  anything  in  it  but  shame  which  can 
any  longer  anger  me;  wherefore  speak  out."  •  "Then, 


Sir  Florian,  men  say  that  at  your  chrii&ening  some  fiend  37 
took  on  him  the  likeness  of  a  priest  and  strove  to  baptize 
you  in  the  Devil's  name,  but  God  had  mercy  on  you  so 
that  the  fiend  could  not  choose  but  baptize  you  in  the 
name  of  the  moA  holy  Trinity:  and  yet  men  say  that 
you  hardly  believe  any  dodtrine  such  as  other  men  do, 
and  will  at  the  end  only  go  to  Heaven  round  about  as  it 
were,  not  at  all  by  the  intercession  of  our  Lady;  they 
say  too  that  you  can  see  no  ghosts  or  other  wonders, 
whatever  happens  to  other  Christian  men."  $?I  smiled 
— "V/ell,  friend,  I  scarcely  call  this  a  disadvantage, 
moreover  what  has  it  to  do  with  the  matter  in  hand?  * 
S?How  was  this  in  Heaven's  name?  we  had  been  quite 
^till,  reeling,  while  this  talk  was  going  on,  but  we  could 
hear  the  hawks  chattering  from  the  rocks,  we  were  so 
close  now.  0  And  my  heart  sunk  within  me,  there  was 
no  reason  why  this  should  not  be  true ;  there  was  no  rea* 
son  why  anything  should  not  be  true.  $?"This,  Sir  Flo*8 
rian,"  said  the  knight  again,  "how  would  you  feel  in- 
clined to  fight  if  you  thought  that  everything  about  you 
was  mere  glamour;  this  earth  here,  the  rocks,  the  sun, 
the  sky?  I  do  not  know  where  I  am  for  certain,  I  do  not 
know  that  it  is  not  midnight  instead  of  undern:  I  do  not 
know  if  I  have  been  fighting  men  or  only  simulacra— 
but  I  think,  we  all  think,  that  we  have  been  led  into  some 


38  devil's  trap  or  other,  and — and — may  God  forgive  me 
my  sins!—  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born."  ^Therenow! 
he  was  weeping — they  all  wept — how  Grange  it  was  to 
see  those  rough,  bearded  men  blubbering  there,  &  sniv* 
elling  till  the  tears  ran  over  their  armour  &  mingled  with 
the  blood,  so  that  it  dropped  down  to  the  earth  in  a  dim, 
dull,  red  rain.  @My  eyes  indeed  were  dry,  but  then  so 
-was  my  heart;  I  felt  far  worse  than  weeping  came  to, 
but  nevertheless  I  spoke  cheerily.  $?"Dear  friends, 
where  are  your  old  men's  hearts  gone  to  now?  See  now! 
this  is  a  punishment  for  our  sins,  is  it?  well,  for  our  fore* 
fathers'  sins,  or  our  own?  if  the  fir^t,  O  brothers,  be  very 
sure  that  if  we  bear  it  manfully  God  will  have  something 
very  good  in  iftore  for  us  hereafter;  but  if  for  our  sins, 
is  it  not  certain  that  He  cares  for  us  yet,  for  note  that 
He  suffers  the  wicked  to  go  their  own  -ways  pretty 
much;  moreover  brave  men,  brothers,  ought  to  be  the 
makers  of  simulacra — come,  is  it  so  hard  to  die  once  for 
all?"  tS Still  no  answer  came  from  them,  they  sighed 
heavily  only.  I  heard  the  sound  of  more  than  one  or  two 
swords  as  they  rattled  back  to  their  scabbards :  nay,  one 
knight,  stripping  himself  of  surcoat  and  hauberk,  and 
drawing  his  dagger,  looked  at  me  with  a  grim  smile,  and 
said,  "Sir  Florian,  do  so! "  then  he  drew  the  dagger  a" 
cross  his  throat  &  he  fell  back  dead.  6 They  shuddered, 


those  brave  men,  and  crossed  themselves.  And  I  had  39 
no  heart  to  say  a  word  more,  hut  mounted  the  horse 
which  had  been  brought  to  me  and  rode  away  slowly 
for  a  few  yards;  then  I  became  aware  that  there  was  a 
great  silence  over  the  whole  field.  9  So  I  lifted  my  eyes 
and  looked,  &  behold  no  man  struck  at  another.  ®Then 
from  out  of  a  band  of  horsemen  came  Harald,  and  he 
was  covered  all  over  with  a  great  scarlet  cloth  as  before, 
put  on  over  the  head,  and  flowing  all  about  his  horse, 
but  rent  with  the  fight.  He  put  off  his  helm  and  drew 
back  his  mail*coif,  then  took  a  trumpet  from  the  hand  of 
a  herald  and  blew  strongly.  8  And  in  the  mid^t  of  this 
blaift  I  heard  a  voice  call  out:  "O  Florian!  come  &  speak 
to  me  for  the  la^l  time!  w  @So  when  I  turned  I  beheld 
Arnald  ^landing  by  himself,  but  near  him  £tood  Hugh 
and  ten  others  with  drawn  swords.  ®Then  I  wept,  and 
so  went  to  him,  weeping;  &he  said,  "Thou  see  A,  broth- 
er, that  we  mu^t  die,  and  I  think  by  some  horrible  and 
unheard-of  death,  and  the  House  of  the  Lilies  is  ju^t 
dying  too;  and  now  I  repent  me  of  Swanhilda's  death; 
now  I  know  that  it  was  a  poor  cowardly  piece  of  re* 
venge,  instead  of  a  brave  act  of  justice;  thus  has  God 
shown  us  the  right.  &"0  Florian!  curseme!  Sowillitbe 
£tr aighter ;  truly  thy  mother  when  she  bore  thee  did  not 
think  of  this ;  rather  saw  thee  in  the  tourney  at  this  time, 


40  in  her  fond  hopes,  glittering  with  gold  &  doing  knightly ; 
or  else  mingling  thy  brown  locks  with  the  golden  hair 
of  some  maiden  weeping  for  the  love  of  thee.  God  for*8 
give  me !  God  forgive  me ! "  0  "  What  harm,  brother?" 
I  said,  "this  is  only  failing  in  the  world;  what  if  we  had 
not  failed,  in  a  little  while  it  would  have  made  no  differ* 
ence;  truly  ju^t  now  I  felt  very  miserable,  but  now  it 
has  passed  away,  and  I  am  happy."  $?  * '  O  brave  heart ! r 
he  said,  "yet  we  shall  part  ju^:  now,  Florian,  farewell." 
$?"The  road  is  long,"  I  said,  "farewell."  $?Then  we 
kissed  each  other,  and  Hugh  &the  others  wept.  ^Now 
all  this  time  the  trumpets  had  been  ringing,  ringing, 
great  doleful  peals,  then  it  ceased,  &  above  all  sounded 
Red  HarakTs  voice.  ®(So  I  looked  round  towards  that 
pass,  &  when  I  looked  I  no  longer  doubted  any  of  those 
wild  tales  of  glamour  concerning  Goliah's  Land;  for 
though  the  rocks  were  the  same,  and  though  the  conies 
rftill  £tood  gazing  at  the  doors  of  their  dwellings,  though 
the  hawks  ^lill  cried  out  shrilly,  though  the  fern  ^till 
shook  in  the  wind,  yet,  beyond,  oh  such  a  land!  not  to 
be  described  by  any  because  of  its  great  beauty,  lying, 
a  great  HOLLOW  land,  the  rocks  going  down  on  this 
side  in  precipices,  then  reaches  and  reaches  of  lovelieA 
country,  trees  and  flowers,  &  corn,  then  the  hills,  green 
and  blue,  and  purple,  till  their  ledges  reached  the  white 


snowy  mountains  at  la^l.  Then  with  all  manner  of  41 
strange  feelings,  "my  heart  in  the  mid^t  of  my  body 
was  even  like  melting  wax.")  ©"O  you  House  of  the 
Lily!  you  are  conquered— yet  I  will  take  vengeance 
only  on  a  few,  therefore  let  all  those  who  wish  to  live 
come  and  pile  their  swords,  and  shields,  and  helms  be* 
hind  me  in  three  great  heaps,  &  swear  fealty  afterwards 
to  me;  yes,  all  but  the  false  Knights  Arnald  &  Florian." 
©  We  were  holding  each  other's  hands  and  gazing,  and 
we  saw  all  our  knights,  yea,  all  but  Squire  Hugh  and 
his  ten  heroes,  pass  over  the  field  singly,  or  in  groups  of 
three  or  four,  with  their  heads  hanging  down  in  shame, 
and  they  ca^l  down  their  notched  swords  and  dinted, 
lilied  shields,  and  bravccre^ted  helms  into  three  great 
heaps,  behind  Red  Harald,  then  £tood  behind,  no  man 
speaking  to  his  fellow  or  touching  him.  ©Then  dole* 
fully  the  great  trumpets  sang  over  the  dying  House  of 
the  Lily,  &  Red  Harald  led  his  men  forward,  but  slowly: 
on  they  came,  spear  and  mail  glittering  in  the  sunlight; 
and  I  turned  &  looked  at  that  good  land,  and  a  shudder* 
ing  delight  seized  my  soul.  ©But  I  felt  my  brother  s 
hand  leave  mine,  and  saw  him  turn  his  horse's  head  and 
ride  swiftly  toward  the  pass;  that  was  a  strange  pass 
now.  ©And  at  the  edge  he  stopped,  turned  round  and 
called  out  aloud,  "I  pray  thee,  Harald,  forgive  me !  now 

f 


42  farewell  all. "  $?Then  the  horse  gave  one  bound  forward, 
and  we  heard  the  poor  creature's  scream  when  he  felt 
that  he  muSt  die,  &  -we  heard  afterwards  (for  we  were 
near  enough  for  that  even)  a  clang  and  a  crash.  @So  I 
turned  me  about  to  Hugh,  and  he  understood  me  though 
I  could  not  speak.  ®We  shouted  all  together,  "Mary 
rings,"  then  laid  our  bridles  on  the  necks  of  our  horses, 
spurred  forward,  and — in  five  minutes  they  were  all 
slain,  and  I  was  down  among  the  horse*hoofs.  $?Not 
slain  though,  not  wounded.  Red  Harald  smiled  grimly 
when  he  saw  me  rise  and  lash  out  again;  he  and  some 
ten  others  dismounted,  &  holding  their  long  spears  out, 
I  went  back — back,  back, — I  saw  what  it  meant,  and 
sheathed  my  sword,  and  their  laughter  rolled  all  about, 
and  I  too  smiled.  $? Presently  they  all  Slopped,  and  I  felt 
the  laSt  foot  of  turf  giving  under  my  feet;  I  looked  down 
and  saw  the  crack  there  widening;  then  in  a  moment  I 
fell,  and  a  cloud  of  duSt  and  earth  rolled  after  me;  then 
again  their  mirth  rose  into  thunder-peals  of  laughter. 
But  through  it  all  I  heard  Red  Harald  shout,  "Silence! 
evil  dogs!  ?  S?For  as  I  fell  I  stretched  out  my  arms,  and 
caught  a  tuft  of  yellow  broom  some  three  feet  from  the 
brow,  and  hung  there  by  the  hands,  my  feet  being  loose 
in  the  air.  $?Then  Red  Harald  came  and  Stood  on  the 
precipice  above  me,  his  great  axe  over  his  shoulder;  and 


he  looked  down  on  me  not  ferociously,  almost  kindly, 
while  the  wind  from  the  Hollow  Land  blew  about  his 
red  raiment,  tattered  &  du^ty  now.  31? And  I  felt  happy, 
though  it  pained  me  to  hold  draining  by  the  broom,  yet 
I  said,  "I  will  hold  out  to  the  la^t."  ®It  was  not  long, 
the  plant  itself  gave  way  and  I  fell,  and  as  I  fell  I  fainted. 


43 


CHAPTER  III-LEAVING  THE  WORLD 

Fytte  the  Fir^t 

I  HAD  thought  when  I  fell  that  I  should  never 
wake  again;  but  I  woke  at  la^t:  for  a  long  time 
I  was  quite  dizzied  and  could  see  nothing  at  all; 
horrible  doubts  came  creeping  over  me;  I  half 
expedled  to  see  presently  great  half  formed  shapes 
come  rolling  up  to  me  to  crush  me ;  something  fiery,  not 
strange,  too  utterly  horrible  to  be  strange,  but  utterly 
vile  and  ugly,  the  sight  of  which  would  have  killed  me 
when  I  was  upon  the  earth,  come  rolling  up  to  torment 
me.  In  fadt  I  doubted  if  I  were  in  hell.  ®I  knew  I  de* 
served  to  be,  but  I  prayed,  &  then  it  came  into  my  mind 
that  I  could  not  pray  if  I  were  in  hell.  $?  Also  there 
seemed  to  be  a  cool  green  light  all  about  me,  which  was 
sweet.  ®Then  presently  I  heard  a  glorious  voice  ring 
out  clear,  close  to  me — 

Christ  keep  the  Hollow  Land 
Through  the  sweet  springtide, 

Wlien  the  applcblossoms  bless 
The  lowly  bent  hill  side. 

Thereat  my  eyes  were  unsealed,  and  I  saw- the  blessed*8 
e£t  sight  I  have  ever  seen  before  or  since :  for  I  saw  my 


Love.  ©  She  sat  about  five  yards  from  me  on  a  great  grey  45 
^lone  that  had  much  moss  on  it,  one  of  the  many  scat" 
tered  along  the  side  of  the  stream  by  which  I  lay;  she 
was  clad  in  loose  white  raiment  close  to  her  hands  and 
throat,  her  feet  were  bare,  her  hair  hung  loose  a  long 
way  down,  but  some  of  it  lay  on  her  knees :  I  said  'white' 
raiment,  but  long  spikes  of  light  scarlet  went  down  from 
the  throat,  lo^t  here  and  there  in  the  shadows  of  the 
folds,  and,  growing  smaller  and  smaller,  died  before 
they  reached  her  feet.  ^1  was  lying  with  my  head  re&* 
ing  on  soft  moss  that  someone  had  gathered  and  placed 
under  me.  She,  when  she  saw  me  moving  and  awake, 
came  and  iftood  over  me  with  a  gracious  smile. — She 
was  so  lovely  and  tender  to  look  at,  and  so  kind,  yet 
withal  no  one,  man  or  woman,  had  ever  frightened  me 
half  so  much,  fi?  She  was  not  fair  in  white  and  red,  like 
many  beautiful  women  are,  being  rather  pale,  but  like 
ivory  for  smoothness,  and  her  hair  was  quite  golden, 
not  light  yellow,  but  dusky  golden.  &I  tried  to  get  up 
on  my  feet,  but  was  too  weak,  and  sunk  back  again. 
She  said:  $?"No,  not  ju^t  yet,  do  not  trouble  yourself 
or  try  to  remember  anything  ju^t  at  present."  ® There 
withal  she  kneeled  down,  &  hung  over  me  closer.  @"To* 
morrow  you  may,  perhaps,  have  something  hard  to  do 
or  bear,  I  know,  but  now-  you  mu^l  be  as  happy  as  you 


46  can  be,  quietly  happy.  Why  did  you  £tart  and  turn  pale 
when  I  came  to  you  ?  Do  you  not  know  who  I  am  ?  Nay, 
but  you  do,  I  see;  and  I  have  been  waiting  here  so  long 
for  you;  so  you  mu^l  have  expedted  to  see  me. — You 
cannot  be  frightened  of  me,  are  you?"  ®But  I  could  not 
answer  a  word,  but  all  the  time  strange  knowledge, 
strange  feelings  were  filling  my  brain  and  my  heart,  she 
said:  $?"You  are  tired;  re^l,  and  dream  happily."  ^So 
she  sat  by  me,  &  sung  to  lull  me  to  sleep,  while  I  turned 
on  my  elbow,  and  watched  the  waving  of  her  throat: 
and  the  singing  of  all  the  poets  I  had  ever  heard,  and  of 
many  others  too,  not  born  till  years  long  after  I  was  dead, 
floated  all  about  me  as  she  sung,  and  I  did  indeed  dream 
happily.  ®V/hen  I  awoke  it  was  the  time  of  the  cold 
dawn,  and  the  colours  were  gathering  themselves  to* 
gether,  whereat  in  fatherly  approving  fashion  the  sun 
sent  all  across  the  eai^t  long  bars  of  scarlet  and  orange 
that  after  faded  through  yellow  to  green  &  blue.  8?  And 
she  sat  by  me  All;  I  think  she  had  been  sitting  there  and 
singing  all  the  time;  all  through  hot  yesterday,  for  I  had 
been  sleeping  daylong  and  night-long,  all  through  the 
falling  evening  under  moonlight  and  starlight  the  night 
through.  &  And  now  it  was  dawn,  and  I  think  too  that 
neither  of  us  had  moved  at  all;  for  the  la^t  thing  I  re* 
membered  before  I  went  to  sleep  was  the  tips  of  her 


fingers  brushing  my  cheek,  as  she  knelt  over  me  with  47 
down*drooping  arm,  and  Still  now  I  felt  them  there. 
Moreover  she  was  juSt  finishing  some  fainting  measure 
that  died  before  it  had  time  to  get  painful  in  its  passion. 
©  Dear  Lord !  how  I  loved  her !  yet  did  I  not  dare  to  touch 
her,  or  even  speak  to  her.  She  smiled  with  delight  when 
she  saw  I  was  awake  again,  and  slid  down  her  hand  on 
to  mine,  but  some  shuddering  dread  made  me  draw  it 
away  again  hurriedly;  then  I  saw  the  smile  leave  her 
face :  what  would  I  not  have  given  for  courage  to  hold 
her  body  quite  tight  to  mine?  but  I  was  so  weak.  She 
said:  ©""Have  you  been  very  happy?"  ©"Yea,"  I  said. 
©It  was  the  fir  St  word  I  had  spoken  there,  &  my  voice 
sounded  Strange .  © fc  w  Ah !  £  she  said, fc  w  you  will  talk  more 
when  you  get  used  to  the  air  of  the  Hollow  Land.  Have 
you  been  thinking  of  your  pa  A  life  at  all?  if  not,  try  to 
think  of  it.  What  thing  in  Heaven  or  Earth  do  you  wish 
for  mo^ir  ©Still  I  said  no  word;  but  she  said  in  a  wearied 
way:  ©"Well  now-,  I  think  you  will  be  Strong  enough 
to  get  to  your  feet  and  walk;  take  my  hand  and  try." 
©Therewith  she  held  it  out:  I  strove  hard  to  be  brave 
enough  to  take  it,  but  could  not;  I  only  turned  away 
shuddering,  sick,  and  grieved  to  the  heart's  core  of  me; 
then  struggling  hard  with  hand  and  knee  and  elbow-,  I 
scarce  rose,  &  Stood  up  totteringly ;  while  she  watched 


y 


48  me  sadly,  ^till  Holding  out  her  hand.  ^But  as  I  rose,  in 
my  swinging  to  and  fro  the  &ee\  sheath  of  my  sword 
struck  her  on  the  hand  so  that  the  blood  flowed  from  it, 
which  she  iftood  looking  at  for  a  while,  then  dropped  it 
downwards,  and  turned  to  look  at  me,  for  I  was  going. 
$?Then  as  I  walked  she  followed  me,  so  I  flopped  and 
turned  and  said  almoift  fiercely:  S?"I  am  going  alone  to 
look  for  my  brother."  ^?The  vehemence  with  which  I 
spoke,  or  something  else,  bur^t  some  blood-vessel  with- 
in my  throat,  and  we  both  iftood  there  with  the  blood 
running  from  us  on  to  the  grass  and  summer  flowers. 
$?She  said:  "Ifyou  find  him,  wait  with  him  till  I  come." 
4? fc '  Yea,"  and  I  turned  and  left  her,  following  the  course 
of  the  stream  upwards,  and  as  I  went  I  heard  her  low 
singing  thatalmo^t  broke  my  heart  forits  sadness. $? And 
I  went  painfully  because  of  my  weakness,  and  because 
also  of  the  great  atones;  and  sometimes  I  went  along  a 
spot  of  earth  where  the  river  had  been  used  to  flow  in 
flood-time,  and  which  was  now  bare  of  everything  but 
atones;  and  the  sun,  now  risen  high,  poured  down  on 
everything  a  great  flood  of  fierce  light  &  scorching  heat, 
and  burnt  me  sorely,  so  that  I  almost  fainted.  ^But 
about  noontide  I  entered  a  wood  close  by  the  stream,  a 
beech-wood,  intending  to  re^t  myself;  the  herbage  was 
thin  and  scattered  there,  sprouting  up  from  amid  the 


leafsheaths  and  nuts  of  the  beeches,  which  had  fallen  49 
year  after  year  on  that  same  spot;  the  outside  boughs 
swept  low-down,  the  air  itself  seemed  green  when  you 
entered  within  the  shadow  of  the  branches,  they  over** 
roofed  the  place  so  with  tender  green,  only  here  and 
there  showing  spots  of  blue.  $?But  what  lay  at  the  foot 
of  a  great  beech  tree  but  some  dead  knight  in  armour, 
only  the  helmet  off?  A  wolf  was  prowling  round  about 
it,  who  ran  away  snarling  when  he  saw  me  coming. 
WSo  I  went  up  to  that  dead  knight,  &  fell  on  my  knees 
before  him,  laying  my  head  on  his  breaift,  for  it  was  Ar* 
nald.  ®He  was  quite  cold  but  had  not  been  dead  for 
very  long ;  I  would  not  believe  him  dead,  but  went  down 
to  the  stream  and  brought  him  water,  tried  to  make  him 
drink — what  would  you  ?  he  was  as  dead  as  S wanhilda : 
neither  came  there  any  answer  to  my  cries  that  after* 
noon  but  the  moaning  of  the  wood'doves  in  the  beeches. 
$?So  then  I  sat  down  &  took  his  head  on  my  knees,  and 
closed  the  eyes,  and  wept  quietly  while  the  sun  sunk 
lower.  $?But  a  little  after  sunset  I  heard  a  rustle  through 
the  leaves,  that  was  not  the  wind,  and  looking  up  my 
eyes  met  the  pitying  eyes  of  that  maiden.  ^Something 
birred  rebelliously  within  me;  I  ceased  weeping,  and 
said:  3§"Itis  unjust,  unfair:  What  right  had  S wanhilda 
to  live  ?  did  not  God  give  her  up  to  us  ?  How  much  better 

g  ' 


jo  was  he  than  ten  Swanhildas?  and  look  you — See ! — tie 
is  DEAD."  ^Now  this  I  shrieked  out,  being  mad;  and 
though  I  trembled  when  I  saw  some  Stormy  wrath  that 
vexed  her  very  heart  and  loving  lips,  gathering  on  her 
face,  I  yet  sat  there  looking  at  her  &  screaming,  scream* 
ing,  till  all  the  place  rung.  ®  But  when  growing  hoarse 
and  breathless  I  ceased;  she  said,  with  straightened 
brow  and  scornful  mouth :  tfB ' c  So !  bravely  done !  muSt 
I  then,  though  I  am  a  woman,  call  you  a  liar,  for  saying 
God  is  unjuSt  ?  You  to  punish  her,  had  not  God  then  pun* 
ished  her  already?  How  many  times  when  she  woke  in 
the  dead  night  do  you  suppose  she  missed  seeing  King 
Urrayne's  pale  face  &  hacked  head  lying  on  the  pillow 
by  her  side?  Whether  by  night  or  day,  what  things  but 
screams  did  she  hear  when  the  wind  blew  loud  round 
about  the  Palace  corners  ?  and  did  not  that  face  too,  often 
come  before  her,  pale  and  bleeding  as  it  was  long  ago, 
and  gaze  at  her  from  unhappy  eyes!  poor  eyes!  with 
changed  purpose  in  them — no  more  hope  of  converting 
the  world  when  that  blow  was  once  Struck,  truly  it  -was 
very  wicked — no  more  dreams,  but  only  fierce  Struggles 
with  the  Devil  for  very  life,  no  more  dreams  but  failure 
at  laSt,  and  death,  happier  so  in  the  Hollow  Land."  3§ 
She  grew  so  pitying  as  she  gazed  at  his  dead  face  that  I 
began  to  weep  again  unreasonably,  while  she  saw  not 


that  I  was  weeping,  but  looked  only  on  ArnalcTs  face,  51 
but  after  turned  on  me  frowning .  <8  "  Unjuift !  yes  truly 
unjust  enough  to  take  away  life  and  all  hope  from  her; 
you  have  done  a  base  cowardly  act,  you  &  your  brother 
here,  disguise  it  as  you  may  ;you  deserve  all  God's  judg* 
ments — you — "  ^  But  I  turned  my  eyes  and  wet  face  to 
her,  and  said :  0 w  w  Do  not  curse  me — there — do  not  look 
like  Swanhilda:  for  see  now,  you  said  at  fir^l  that  you 
had  been  waiting  long  for  me,  give  me  your  hand  now, 
for  I  love  you  so."  $?Then  she  came  and  knelt  by  where 
I  sat,  and  I  caught  her  in  my  arms,  and  she  prayed  to  be 
forgiven.  © fc  fc  O,  Florian !  I  have  indeed  waited  long  for 
you,  and  -when  I  saw  you  my  heart  was  filled  with  joy, 
but  you  would  neither  touch  me  nor  speak  to  me,  so  that 
I  became  almost  mad, — forgive  me,  we  will  be  so  happy 
now.  O !  do  you  know  this  is  what  I  have  been  waiting 
for  all  these  years ;  it  made  me  glad  I  know,  when  I  was 
a  little  baby  in  my  mother's  arms  to  think  I  was  born  for 
this;  &  afterwards,  as  I  grew  up,  I  used  to  watch  every 
breath  of  wind  through  the  beech^boughs,  every  turn 
of  the  silver  poplar  leaves,  thinking  it  might  be  you  or 
some  news  of  you."  $?Then  I  rose  &  drew  her  up  with 
me;  but  she  knelt  again  by  my  brother's  side,  and  kissed 
him,  and  said :  $? k  fc  O  brother !  the  Hollow  Land  is  only 
second  beift  of  the  places  God  has  made,  for  Heaven  also 


52  is  the  work  of  His  hand."  ^Afterwards  we  dug  a  deep 
grave  among  the  beech-roots  &  there  we  buried  Arnald 
de  Liliis.  ©  And  I  have  never  seen  him  since,  scarcely 
even  in  dreams;  surely  God  has  had  mercy  on  him,  for 
he  was  very  leal  and  true  and  brave;  he  loved  many 
men,  and  was  kind  and  gentle  to  his  friends,  neither  did 
he  hate  any  but  Swanhilda.  $?But  as  for  us  two,  Mar- 
garet  and  me,  I  cannot  tell  you  concerning  our  happi- 
ness, such  things  cannot  be  told;  only  this  I  know,  that 
we  abode  continually  in  the  Hollow  Land  until  I  lo^l  it. 
W Moreover  this  I  can  tell  you.  Margaret  was  walking 
with  me,  as  she  often  walked  near  the  place  where  I  had 
fir  ^l  seen  her;  presently  we  came  upon  a  woman  sitting, 
dressed  in  scarlet  and  gold  raiment,  with  her  head  laid 
down  on  her  knees ;  likewise  we  heard  her  sobbing.  0 
" Margaret,  who  is  she?"  I  said:  "I  knew  not  that  any 
dwelt  in  the  Hollow  Land  but  us  two  only."  $? She  said, 
"I  know  not  who  she  is,  only  sometimes,  these  many 
years,  I  have  seen  her  scarlet  robe  flaming  from  far 
away,  amid  the  quiet  green  grass:  but  I  was  never  so 
near  her  as  this.  Florian,  I  am  afraid:  let  us  come  away." 

Fytte  the  Second 

$?Such  a  horrible  grey  November  day  it  was,  the  fog- 
smell  all  about,  the  fog  creeping  into  our  very  bones. 


8  And  I  sat  there,  trying  to  recoiled:,  at  any  rate  some*  53 
thing,  under  those  fir-trees  that  I  ought  to  have  known 
so  well,  ti? Ju^t  think  now;  I  had  lo^l  my  be^t  years  some* 
where;  for  I  was  pa^t  the  prime  of  life,  my  hair  and 
beard  were  scattered  with  white,  my  body  was  grow* 
ing  weaker,  my  memory  of  all  things  was  very  faint. 
^My  raiment,  purple  and  scarlet  and  blue  once,  was  so 
stained  that  you  could  scarce  call  it  any  colour,  was  so 
tattered  that  it  scarce  covered  my  body,  though  it 
seemed  once  to  have  fallen  in  heavy  folds  to  my  feet,  and 
iftill,  when  I  rose  to  walk,  though  the  miserable  Novem* 
ber  mi^t  lay  in  great  drops  upon  my  bare  breast,  yet  was 
I  obliged  to  wind  my  raiment  over  my  arm,  it  draggled 
so  (wretched,  slimy,  textureless  thing!)  in  the  brown 
mud.  S?On  my  head  was  a  light  morion,  which  pressed 
on  my  brow  &  pained  me;  so  I  put  my  hand  up  to  take 
it  off;  but  when  I  touched  it  I  ^lood  £till  in  my  walk  shud* 
dering;  I  nearly  fell  to  the  earth  with  shame  and  sick 
horror ;  for  I  laid  my  hand  on  a  lump  of  slimy  earth  with 
worms  coiled  up  in  it.  I  could  scarce  forbear  from 
shrieking,  but  breathing  such  a  prayer  as  I  could  think 
of,  I  raised  my  hand  again  and  seized  it  firmly.  Worse 
horror  &ill!  the  ru^l  had  eaten  it  into  holes,  and  I  gripped 
my  own  hair  as  well  as  the  rotting  3teel,  the  sharp  edge 
of  which  cut  into  my  fingers ;  but  setting  my  teeth,  gave 


54  a  great  wrench,  for  I  knew  that  if  I  let  go  of  it  then,  no 
power  on  the  earth  or  under  it  could  make  me  touch  it 
again.  God  be  praised!  I  tore  itoff  &ca£t  it  far  from  me; 
I  saw  the  earth,  and  the  -worms  and  green  weeds  and 
sun*begotten  slime,  whirling  out  from  it  radiatingly,  as 
it  spun  round  about.  4?I  was  girt  with,  a  sword  too,  the 
leathern  belt  of  which  had  shrunk  &  squeezed  my  wai^t: 
dead  leaves  had  gathered  in  knots  about  the  buckles  of 
it,  the  gilded  handle  was  encrusted  with  clay  in  many 
parts,  the  velvet  sheath  miserably  worn.  43 But,  verily, 
when  I  took  hold  of  the  hilt,  and  dreaded  le^t  instead  of 
a  sword  I  should  find  a  serpent  in  my  hand;  lo!  then,  I 
drew  out  my  own  true  blade  and  shook  it  flawless  from 
hilt  to  point,  gleaming  white  in  that  miift.  ^Therefore 
it  sent  a  thrill  of  joy  to  my  heart,  to  know  that  there  was 
one  friend  left  me  yet:  I  sheathed  it  again  carefully,  and 
undoing  it  from  my  wai^t,  hung  it  about  my  neck.  $? 
Then  catching  up  my  rags  in  my  arms,  I  drew  them  up 
till  my  legs  and  feet  were  altogether  clear  from  them, 
afterwards  folded  my  arms  over  my  breast,  gave  a  long 
leap  and  ran,  looking  downward,  but  not  giving  heed  to 
my  way.  WOnce  or  twice  I  fell  over  Slumps  of  trees, 
and  such4ike,  for  it  was  a  cut^down  wood  that  I  was  in, 
but  I  rose  always,  though  bleeding  &  confused,  and  went 
on  jftill;  sometimes  tearing  madly  through  briars  and 


forse  bushes,  so  that  my  blood  dropped  on  the  dead 
leaves  as  I  went.  ®I  ran  in  this  way  for  about  an  hour; 
then  I  heard  a  gurgling  and  splashing  of  waters;  I  gave 
a  great  shout  and  leapt  strongly,  with  shut  eyes,  and  the 
black  water  closed  over  me.  @  When  I  rose  again,  I  saw- 
near  me  a  boat  with  a  man  in  it;  but  the  shore  was  far 
off;  I  struck  out  toward  the  boat,  but  my  clothes  which 
I  had  knotted  and  folded  about  me,  weighed  me  down 
terribly.  $?The  man  looked  at  me,  and  began  to  paddle 
toward  me  with  the  oar  he  held  in  his  left  hand,  having 
in  his  right  a  long,  slender  spear,  barbed  like  a  fish  hook; 
perhaps,  I  thought,  it  is  some  fishing  spear;  moreover 
his  raiment  was  of  scarlet,  with  upright  stripes  of  yel* 
low  and  black  all  over  it.  6  WTien  my  eye  caught  his, 
a  smile  widened  his  mouth  as  if  some  one  had  made  a 
joke;  but  I  was  beginning  to  sink,  and  indeed  my  head 
was  almost  under  water  jusft  as  he  came  &  ^lood  above 
me,  but  before  it  went  quite  under,  I  saw  his  spear 
gleam,  then  felt  it  in  my  shoulder,  and  for  the  present, 
felt  nothing  else.  $?WTien  I  woke  I  was  on  the  bank  of 
that  river;  the  flooded  waters  went  hurrying  pa^t  me; 
no  boat  on  them  now;  from  the  river  the  ground  went 
up  in  gentle  slopes  till  it  grew  a  great  hill,  and  there,  on 
that  hill  top,— Yes,  I  might  forget  many  things,  almost 
everything,  but  not  that,  not  the  old  cattle  of  my  fathers 


55 


56  up  among  the  hills,  its  towers  blackened  now  and  shat* 
tered,  yet  £till  no  enemy's  banner  waved  from  it.  0  So 
I  said  I  would  go  &die  there;  and  at  this  thought  I  drew 
my  sword,  which  yet  hung  about  my  neck,  and  shook 
it  in  the  air  till  the  true  i&eel  quivered;  then  began  to  pace 
toward  the  cattle.  I  was  quite  naked,  no  rag  about  me ; 
I  took  no  heed  of  that,  only  thanking  God  that  my  sword 
was  left,  &  so  toiled  up  the  hill.  I  entered  the  cattle  soon 
by  the  outer  court;  I  knew  the  way  so  well,  that  I  did 
not  lift  my  eyes  from  the  ground,  but  walked  on  over 
the  lowered  drawbridge  through  the  unguarded  gates, 
and  ^lood  in  the  great  hall  at  la^t — my  father's  hall — as 
bare  of  everything  but  my  sword  as  when  I  came  into 
the  world  fifty  years  before :  I  had  as  little  clothes,  as  lit* 
tie  wealth,  less  memory  and  thought,  I  verily  believe, 
than  then.  $?So  I  lifted  up  my  eyes  and  gazed;  no  glass 
in  the  windows,  no  hangings  on  the  walls;  the  vaulting 
yet  held  good  throughout,  but  seemed  to  be  going;  the 
mortar  had  fallen  out  from  between  the  atones,  &  grass 
and  fern  grew  in  the  joints;  the  marble  pavement  was 
in  some  places  gone,  and  water  ^tood  about  in  puddles, 
though  one  scarce  knew  how  it  had  got  there.  ^No 
hangings  on  the  walls — no;  yet,  strange  to  say,  instead 
of  them,  the  walls  blazed  from  end  to  end  with  scarlet 
paintings,  only  striped  across  with  green  damp*marks 


in  many  places,  some  falling  bodily  from  the  wall,  the  57 
planter  hanging  down  with  the  fading  colour  on  it.  @In 
all  of  them,  except  for  the  shadows  and  the  faces  of  the 
figures,  there  was  scarce  any  colour  but  scarlet  and  yel* 
low;  here  and  there  it  seemed  the  painter,  whoever  it 
was,  had  tried  to  make  his  trees  or  his  grass  green,  but 
it  would  not  do;  some  ghastly  thoughts  mui&  have  filled 
his  head,  for  all  the  green  went  presently  into  yellow, 
out*sweeping  through  the  pidlure  dismally.  But  the 
faces  were  painted  to  the  very  life,  or  it  seemed  so; — 
there  were  only  five  of  them,  however,  that  were  very 
marked  or  came  much  in  the  foreground;  and  four  of 
these  I  knew  well,  though  I  did  not  then  remember  the 
names  o£  those  that  had  borne  them.  They  were  Red 
Harald,  Swanhilda,  Arnald,  and  myself.  The  fifth  I  did 
not  know;  it  was  a  woman's,  &  very  beautiful.  ®Then 
I  saw  that  in  some  parts  a  small  penthouse  roof  had  been 
built  over  the  paintings,  to  keep  them  from  the  weather. 
Near  one  of  these  3tood  a  man  painting,  clothed  in  red, 
with  Gripes  of  yellow  &  black:  then  I  knew  that  it  was 
the  same  man  who  had  saved  me  from  drowning  by 
spearing  me  through  the  shoulder;  so  I  went  up  to  him, 
and  saw  furthermore  that  he  was  girt  with  a  heavy 
sword.  ®He  turned  round  when  he  saw  me  coming, 
and  asked  me  fiercely  what  I  did  there.  ®I  asked  why 

h 


58  he  was  painting  in  my  cattle.  0 Thereupon,  with  that 
same  grim  smile  widening  his  mouth  as  heretofore,  he 
said,  CCI  paint  God's  judgments/'  ©And  as  he  spoke,  he 
rattled  the  sword  in  his  scabbard;  but  I  said,  £? "Well, 
then,  you  paint  them  very  badly.  Listen;  I  know  God's 
judgments  much  better  than  you  do.  See  now;  I  will 
teach  you  God's  judgments,  &  you  shall  teach  me  paint" 
ing."  ^While  I  spoke  he  £till  rattled  his  sword,  &  when 
I  had  done,  shut  his  right  eye  tight,  screwing  his  nose  on 
one  side;  then  said,  © "  You  have  got  no  clothes  on,  and 
may  go  to  the  devil!  what  do  YOU  know  about  God's 
judgments  ?  "  © w  fc  "Well,  they  are  not  all  yellow  and  red, 
at  all  events ;  you  ought  to  know  better."  8 He  screamed 
out,  "O  you  fool!  yellow  and  red!  Gold  &  blood,  what 
do  they  make?"  ®"  Well,"  I  said;  "what?"  ©"HELL! " 
And,  coming  close  up  to  me,  he  struck  me  with  his  open 
hand  in  the  face,  so  that  the  colour  with  which  his  hand 
was  smeared  was  dabbed  about  my  face.  The  blow  al- 
most threw  me  down;  and  while  I  staggered,  he  rushed 
at  me  furiously  with  his  sword.  Perhaps  it  was  good  for 
me  that  I  had  got  no  clothes  on;  for,  being  utterly  unen* 
cumbered,  I  leapt  this  way  and  that,  and  avoided  his 
fierce,  eager  strokes  till  I  could  colledt  myself  some* 
what;  while  he  had  a  heavy  scarlet  cloak  on  that  trailed 
on  the  ground,  and  which  he  often  trod  on,  so  that  he 


stumbled.  $?He  very  nearly  slew  me  during  the  fir^t  59 
few  minutes,  for  it  was  not  Grange  that,  together  with 
other  matters,  I  should  have  forgotten  the  art  offence: 
hut  yet,  as  I  went  on,  and  sometimes  bounded  about  the 
hall  under  the  whizzing  of  his  sword,  as  he  rented  some** 
times,  leaning  on  it,  as  the  point  sometimes  touched  my 
bare  flesh,  nay,  once  as  the  whole  sword  fell  flatlings  on 
my  head  &  made  my  eyes  i&art  out,  I  remembered  the 
old  joy  that  I  used  to  have,  &  the  swy,  swy,  of  the  sharp 
edge,  as  one  gazed  between  one's  horse's  ears;  moreover, 
at  la^l,  one  fierce  swift  stroke,  ju^l  touching  me  below 
the  throat,  tore  up  the  skin  all  down  my  body,  and  fell 
heavy  on  my  thigh,  so  that  I  drew  my  breath  in  and 
turned  white;  then  fir^l,  as  I  swung  my  sword  round 
my  head,  our  blades  met,  oh!  to  hear  that  tchink  again! 
and  I  felt  the  notch  my  sword  made  in  his,  and  swung 
out  at  him;  but  he  guarded  it  and  returned  on  me;  I 
guarded  right  and  left,  and  grew  warm,  and  opened  my 
mouth  to  shout,  but  knew  not  what  to  say;  &our  sword 
points  fell  on  the  floor  together:  then,  when  we  had 
panted  awhile,  I  wiped  from  my  face  the  blood  that  had 
been  dashed  over  it,  shook  my  sword  and  cut  at  him, 
then  we  spun  round  and  round  in  a  mad  waltz  to  the 
measured  music  of  our  meeting  swords,  and  sometimes 
either  wounded  the  other  somewhat,  but  not  much,  till 


60  I  beat  down  his  sword  on  to  his  head,  that  he  fell  grovel" 
ling,  but  not  cut  through.  Verily,  thereupon  my  lips 
opened  mightily  with  u  Mary  rings."  $?Then,  when  he 
had  gotten  to  his  feet,  I  went  at  him  again,  he  daggering 
back,  guarding  wildly;  I  cut  at  his  head;  he  put  his 
sword  up  confusedly,  so  I  fitted  both  hands  to  my  hilt, 
and  smote  him  mightily  under  the  arm:  then  his  shriek 
mingled  with  my  shout,  made  a  strange  sound  together; 
he  rolled  over  and  over,  dead,  as  I  thought.  $?I  walked 
about  the  hall  in  great  exultation  at  fir^t,  striking  my 
sword  point  on  the  floor  every  now  and  then,  till  I  grew 
faint  with  loss  of  blood;  then  I  went  to  my  enemy  and 
Gripped  off  some  of  his  clothes  to  bind  up  my  wounds 
withal;  afterwards  I  found  in  a  corner  bread  and  wine, 
and  I  eat  and  drank  thereof.  $?Then  I  went  back  to  him, 
and  looked,  and  a  thought  struck  me,  &  I  took  some  of 
his  paints  and  brushes,  and,  kneeling  down,  painted  his 
face  thus,  with  stripes  of  yellow  and  red,  crossing  each 
other  at  right  angles ;  and  in  each  of  the  squares  so  made 
I  put  a  spot  of  black,  after  the  manner  of  the  painted  let" 
ters  in  the  prayer-books  and  romances  when  they  are 
ornamented.  $?So  I  ^lood  back  as  painters  use,  folded 
my  arms,  and  admired  my  own  handiwork.  Yet  there 
struck  me  as  being  something  so  utterly  doleful  in  the 
man's  white  face,  and  the  blood  running  all  about  him, 


and  washing  off  the  stains  of  paint  from  his  face  &  hands,  61 
and  splashed  clothes,  that  my  heart  misgave  me,  and  I 
hoped  that  he  was  not  dead;  I  took  some  water  from  a 
vessel  he  had  been  using  for  his  painting,  and,  kneeling, 
washed  his  face.  $?Was  it  some  resemblance  to  my 
father's  dead  face,  which  I  had  seen  when  I  was  young, 
that  made  me  pity  him?  I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  heart, 
and  felt  it  beating  feebly;  so  I  lifted  him  up  gently,  and 
carried  him  towards  a  heap  of  £traw  that  he  seemed 
used  to  lie  upon;  there  I  stripped  him  and  looked  to  his 
wounds,  &  used  leech*craft,  the  memory  of  which  God 
gave  me  for  this  purpose,  I  suppose,  and  within  seven 
days  I  found  that  he  would  not  die.  ^Afterwards,  as  I 
wandered  about  the  cattle,  I  came  to  a  room  in  one  of 
the  upper  stories,  that  had  ^till  the  roof  on,  &  windows 
in  it  with  painted  glass,  and  there  I  found  green  raiment 
and  swords  &  armour,  and  I  clothed  myself  0  So  when 
he  got  well  I  asked  him  what  his  namewas,  and  heme, 
and  we  both  of  us  said, ' fc  truly  I  know  not."  Then  said  I, 
"but  we  muA  call  each  other  some  name,  even  as  men 
call  days."  $?"Call  me  Swerker,"  he  said,  "some  priest 
I  knew  once  had  that  name."  0 "  And  me  Wulf,"  said 
I,  "though  wherefore  I  know  not."  &Then  he  said:  $? 
"Wulf,  I  will  teach  you  painting  now,  come  &  learn." 
$?Then  I  tried  to  learn  painting  till  I  thought  I  should  die, 


62  but  at  la^t  learned  it  through  very  much  pain  and  grief. 
fg  And,  as  the  years  went  on  and  we  grew  old  and  grey, 
we  painted  purple  pidlures  &  green  ones  imftead  of  the 
scarlet  and  yellow,  so  that  the  walls  looked  altered,  and 
always  we  painted  God's  judgments.  $?And  we  would 
sit  in  the  sunset  and  watch  them  with  the  golden  light 
changing  them,  as  we  yet  hoped  God  would  change  both 
us  and  our  works.  0 Often  too  we  would  sit  outside  the 
walls  and  look  at  the  trees  and  sky,  and  the  ways  of  the 
few  men  and  women  we  saw;  therefrom  sometimes 
befell  adventures.  $?Once  there  went  pa&  a  great  fu- 
neral of  some  king  going  to  his  own  country,  not  as  he 
had  hoped  to  go,  but  iftiff  and  colourless,  spices  filling  up 
the  place  of  his  heart.  $?  And  firift  went  by  very  many 
knights,  with  long  bright  hauberks  on,  that  fell  down 
before  their  knees  as  they  rode,  and  they  all  had  tilting" 
helms  on  with  the  same  cre^t,  so  that  their  faces  were 
quite  hidden:  and  this  ere  A  was  two  hands  clasped  to* 
gether  tightly  as  though  they  were  the  hands  of  one 
praying  forgiveness  from  the  one  he  loves  be^t ;  and  the 
cre^t  was  wrought  in  gold.  ^Moreover,  they  had  on 
over  their  hauberks  surcoats  which  were  half  scarlet 
and  half  purple,  strewn  about  with  golden  &ars.  $?Also 
long  lances,  that  had  forked  knights'-pennons,  half  pur- 
ple and  half  scarlet,  strewn  with  golden  3tars.  ®And 


these  went  by  with  no  sound  but  the  fall  of  their  horse*  63 
hoofs.  ®  And  they  went  slowly,  so  slowly  that  we 
counted  them  all,  five  thousand  five  hundred  and  fifty* 
five.  0 There  went  by  many  fair  maidens  whose  hair 
was  loose  and  yellow,  and  who  were  all  clad  in  green 
raiment  ungirded,  and  shod  with  golden  shoes.  ^These 
also  we  counted,  being  five  hundred;  moreover  some  of 
the  outermost  of  them,  viz.  one  maiden  to  every  twen* 
ty,  had  long  silver  trumpets,  which  they  swung  out  to 
right  and  left,  blowing  them,  and  their  sound  was  very 
sad.  $?Then  many  priests,  and  bishops,  &  abbots,  who 
wore  white  albs  and  golden  copes  over  them;  and  they 
all  sung  together  mournfully,  "Propter  amnem  Baby* 
lonis;"  &  these  were  three  hundred.  8  After  that  came 
a  great  knot  of  the  Lords,  who  wore  tilting  helmets  and 
surcoats  emblazoned  with  each  one  his  own  device; 
only  each  had  in  his  hand  a  small  ^taff  two  feet  long 
whereon  was  a  pennon  of  scarlet  and  purple.  These  al* 
so  were  three  hundred.  0 And  in  the  mid^t  of  these 
was  a  great  car  hung  down  to  the  ground  with  purple, 
drawn  by  grey  horses  whose  trappings  were  half  scar** 
let,  half  purple.  33  And  on  this  car  lay  the  King,  whose 
head  and  hands  were  bare;  &  he  had  on  him  a  surcoat, 
half  purple  and  half  scarlet,  iftrewn  with  golden  £tars. 
&  And  his  head  reeled  on  a  tilting  helmet,  whose  cre^l 


64  was  the  hands  of  one  praying  passionately  for  forgive* 
ness.  ®But  his  own  hands  lay  by  his  side  as  if  he  had  ju^b 
fallen  asleep .  © And  all  about  the  car  were  little  banners, 
half  purple  and  half  scarlet,  strewn  with  golden  ^tars. 
H Then  the  King,  who  counted  but  as  one,  went  by  also. 
^And  after  himcame  again  many  maidens  clad  inungirt 
white  raiment  strewn  with  scarlet  flowers,  &  their  hair 
was  loose  and  yellow  &  their  feet  bare:  and,  except  for 
the  falling  of  their  feet  &  the  rustle  of  the  wind  through 
their  raiment,  they  went  pa^t  quite  silently.  These  also 
were  five  hundred.  ^Then  lastly  came  many  young 
knights  with  long  bright  hauberks  falling  over  their 
knees  as  they  rode,  and  surcoats,  half  scarlet  and  half 
purple,  strewn  with  golden  gtars;  they  bore  long  lances 
with  forked  pennons  which  were  half  purple,  half  scar* 
let,  strewn  with  golden  ^tars;  their  heads  &  their  hands 
were  bare,  but  they  bore  shields,  each  one  o£  them, 
which  were  of  bright  ^leel  wrought  cunningly  in  the 
mid^t  with  that  bearing  of  the  two  hands  of  one  who 
prays  for  forgiveness;  which  was  done  in  gold.  These 
were  but  five  hundred.  $?Then  they  all  went  by  wind* 
ing  up  and  up  the  hill  roads,  and,  -when  the  la^l  of  them 
had  departed  out  of  our  sight,  we  put  down  our  heads 
and  wept,  and  I  said,  "Sing  us  one  of  the  songs  of  the 
Hollow  Land."  $?Then  he  whom  I  had  called  Swerker 


put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  and  slowly  drew  out  a  long,  65 
long  tress  of  black  hair,  &laid  on  his  knee  and  smoothed 
it,  weeping  on  it.  So  then  I  left  him  there  and  went  and 
armed  myself,  &  brought  armour  for  him.  ®  And  then 
came  back  to  him  and  threw  the  armour  down  so  that 
it  clanged,  and  said:  S§"0!  Harald,  let  us  go! "  ®He 
did  not  seem  surprised  that  I  called  him  by  the  right 
name,  but  rose  and  armed  himself,  and  then  he  looked  a 
good  knight;  so  we  set  forth.  6  And  in  a  turn  of  the  long 
road  we  came  suddenly  upon  a  moift  fair  woman, 
clothed  in  scarlet,  who  sat  and  sobbed,  holding  her  face 
between  her  hands,  &  her  hair  was  very  black.  <9  And 
when  Harald  saw  her,  he  iftood  &  gazed  at  her  for  long 
through  the  bars  of  his  helmet,  then  suddenly  turned, 
and  said:  0 "Florian,  I  muift  £lop  here;  do  you  go  on  to 
the  Hollow  Land.  Farewell."  ®  " Farewell."  And  then 
I  went  on,  never  turning  back,  &him  I  never  saw  more. 
^  And  so  I  went  on,  quite  lonely,  but  happy,  till  I  had 
reached  the  Hollow  Land.  S?Into  which  I  let  myself 
down  mo^t  carefully,  by  the  jutting  rocks  &  bushes  and 
strange  trailing  flowers,  &  there  lay  down  &  fell  asleep. 

Fy tte  the  Third 

$?And  I  was  waked  by  some  one  singing:  I  felt  very 
happy;  I  felt  young  again;  I  had  fair  delicate  raiment  on, 


66  my  sword  was  gone,  and  my  armour;  I  tried  to  think 
where  I  was,  and  could  not  for  my  happiness;  I  tried  to 
listen  to  the  words  of  the  song.  Nothing,  only  an  old  echo 
in  my  ears,  only  all  manner  of  strange  scenes  from  my 
wretched  paiftlife  before  my  eyes  in  a  dim,  far*off  man* 
ner:  then  at  la&,  slowly,  without  effort,  I  heard  what 
she  sang. 

"Chriift  keep  the  Hollow  Land 

All  the  summer*tide; 

Still  we  cannot  under&and 

'WTiere  the  waters  glide; 

"Only  dimly  seeing  them 
Coldly  slipping  through 
Many  green^lipp'd  cavern  mouths, 
V/here  the  hills  are  blue." 

$? "Then,"  she  said,  "come  now  and  look  for  it,  love,  a 
hollow  city  in  the  Hollow  Land."  ®I  kissed  Margaret, 

and  we  'went. 

..       •       ..       .       ..       .       .  .       .       .  .       .       ..       . 

.       ..       .       ..       *       ..       .       ..       .       ..       .       .. 

&  Through  the  golden  streets  under  the  purple  shadows 

of  the  houses  we  went,  and  the  slow  fanning  backward 

and  forward  of  the  manycoloured  banners  cooled  us: 

we  two  alone;  there  was  no  one  with  us,  no  soul  will 

ever  be  able  to  tell  what  we  said,  how  we  looked.  W  At 


laSt  we  came  to  a  fair  palace,  cloistered  off  in  the  old  67 
time,  before  the  city  grew  golden  from  the  din  &  hubbub 
of  traffic;  those  who  dwelt  there  in  the  old  ungolden 
times  had  had  their  own  joys,  their  own  sorrows,  apart 
from  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  the  multitude:  so,  in  like 
manner,  was  it  now  cloistered  off  from  the  eager  lean* 
ing  and  brotherhood  of  the  golden  dwellings :  so  now  it 
had  its  own  gaiety,  its  own  solemnity,  apart  from  theirs; 
unchanged,  unchangeable,  were  its  marble  walls,  what* 
ever  else  changed  about  it.  @  We  Stopped  before  the 
gates  and  trembled,  and  clasped  each  other  closer;  for 
there  among  the  marble  leafage  and  tendrils  that  were 
round  &  under  and  over  the  archway  that  held  the  gold* 
en  valves,  were  wrought  two  figures  of  a  man  &  woman, 
winged  &  garlanded,  whose  raiment  flashed  with  Stars ; 
and  their  faces  were  like  faces  we  had  seen  or  half  seen 
in  some  dream  long  and  long  and  long  ago,  so  that  we 
trembled  with  awe  and  delight;  and  I  turned,  &  seeing 
Margaret,  saw  that  her  face  was  that  face  seen  or  half 
seen  long  and  long  and  long  ago;  &  in  the  shining  of  her 
eyes  I  saw  that  other  face,  seen  in  that  way  &  no  other 
long  and  long  and  long  ago— my  face.  ®  And  then  we 
walked  together  toward  the  golden  gates,  and  opened 
them,  and  no  man  gainsaid  us.  ff  And  before  us  lay  a 
great  space  of  flowers.  3@The  End. 


Here  ends  THE  HOLLOW  LAND,  A  TALE,  by 
^/llliam  Morris.  Reprinted  from  The  Oxford  &  Cam* 
bridge  Magazine.  Printed  by  hand  at  The  Village  Press 
Hingham,  Massachusetts,  by  Frederic  W.  &  Bertha  M. 
Goudy,  from  the  Village  type,  and  finished  this  second 
day  of  Odtober,  1905.  Frontispiece  illustration  from 
drawing  by  Walter  J.  Enright;  illustration  on  page  43 
from  drawing  by  Bror .  J.  Olsson  Nordfeldt ;  the  Note  by 
Cyrus  Lauron  Hooper;  and  double  border,  title  andini* 
tial  by  Mr. Goudy,  thedesigner  of the  fount.  Composition 
by  Mrs.  Goudy. 


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3ENDE 


